The Tomb In The Desert
by adromir
Summary: Eldarion son of Aragorn is one rebellious teenager. He creates trouble for himself and, naturally, drags Legolas along with him. Need I say more?
1. Default Chapter

**Summary :**** Eldarion son of Aragorn is one rebellious teenager. He creates trouble for himself and, naturally, drags Legolas along with him. Need I say more?**

**Is it April yet? (She checks the calendar.) Right. It's 8th of April already. One month to go before the premiere of 'Kingdom of Heaven'! **

**Hello, everyone! Welcome back to Adromir's domain, the universe of utter madness. He he he! Am I late? I hope not. So here's the Eldarion's story that I've promised you. This fic will involve a tomb, a desert, a defiant teenager, and two clueless elven princes who have the opinion that fatherhood gives them mother of all headaches! LOL! We'll see how they survive this one.**

**Honestly, I'm not sure how long this fic would take, maybe more than a month because my office is going through several phases of renovation. There will be times when the server is shut down or that I can't even boot up my PC. This might not help me update as frequently as before. So hang on tight to that cliffies! **

**Did I say cliffies? Err…yes, I did, eh? Don't worry. I'll try to keep them at minimum in this one. **

**On second thought, (scoffs)…Yeah, right.**

**Szhismine****, I feel so awful for leaving out your name in the faithful reviewers list for that last story! I thought I had jotted down all the names. So sorry, mellon. You have been supporting me for a _very_ long time now and I could _never_ forget you! To make it up to you, I dedicate this fic especially for you. Enjoy it, my dear.**

**NOTE :**** This is a post-LOTR, took place about five years after 'Triple Jeopardy'. (I haven't post the story on Keldarion's wedding yet, have I. I'll work on it, I promise.) **

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_One fine Spring morning, at the receiving terrace of the keep of Ithilien…_

The tall, sandy-haired rider reined in his mount near the terrace stairs. He smoothly dismounted, gesturing for his five men-at-arms to do the same. The efficient servants rushed forward to look after the mounts as the men of Gondor waited for an audience with the lord of the keep.

"Lord Faramir." A tall elven warrior finally approached from the great door, smiling widely. "Welcome, my lord. Pardon us for the lack of pomp. We have not been expecting your arrival—and this early in the morning, to boot."

Faramir son of Denethor, the Prince of Ithilien, grinned in return as the two friends warmly clasped hands. "No pomp for me, Beregund, you know that. I have had enough of such things on my wedding day. That experience haunts me still."

Beregund laughed. He inclined his head towards the stairs. "Let me show you to the parlor, my lord. You must be in need of refreshments. And have no doubt; our people will look to your men's comfort also."

Still smiling, Faramir fell into step with the elf, only half aware that his escort was already being steered in another direction by the keep's servants. "Oh, I never doubt that. Every time I leave this place, I gain at least a stone under my girth! You feed us a serving fit for an oliphaunt!"

"We are more than willing to fatten you up, my lord. My lady said that you are much too skinny."

Faramir's eyes widened. He then chuckled. "I don't believe it. Lady Narasene said that?"

The elf's eyes twinkled. "Yes. Well, she says that to everyone in fact, mostly to her beloved husband, worried that he is too busy working that he forgets to eat."

"Speaking of which, where is your lord Legolas, anyway?" the man asked as they neared the parlor.

"He is in the inner courtyard, having his morning exercises." Legolas' second in command paused, his head cocked to one side. "Would you rather meet him there?"

Faramir's face brightened. There was nothing more spectacular than to see an elven warrior during a work out, especially _this_ particular elf.

"Oh, absolutely, Beregund. I won't miss it for the world."

"That's good, my lord. But, just to let you know, he is not alone."

Smiling mischievously, Beregund led the way back towards the hallway they had come from. From there, they went up another flight of stairs, turned down another corridor and came to a small clearing in the middle of the keep. The sound of clashing blades was high in the air, as also the grunts and curses from the two sparring warriors.

Faramir's smile broadened as he caught sight of the dark-haired elf that was crossing blades with the golden-haired Ithilien lord. "Keldarion is here as well. When did he arrive?"

"Four nights ago, and in a _very_ strange mood," Beregund answered. "Those two brothers are trying to vent out some frustrations, I gather."

Intrigued, Faramir's brows raised, almost reaching his hairline. "Oh? Is something wrong? What happened?"

Beregund shrugged, whispering, "It's too personal for me to say it, my lord. I will leave it to them to explain it all to you. I give you a hint, though. Their respective lady wives are not here in this keep at the moment."

_This is getting more interesting_, Faramir thought. "Where are they then?"

"In Eryn Lasgalen, under the protection of their esteemed father-in-law, Lord Thranduil."

Faramir gave a low whistle. "Wow, this surely sounds serious. What have those two done to their wives?"

Grinning slightly, Beregund replied, "Oh, they have done _something _indeed. But like I said, it's not my place to say it. I hope your presence can help them think rationally somewhat, though. All the servants have become too frightened to go near those two, so vile their tempers are."

"And what makes you think _I_ can help in this situation?" The man grew anxious when Beregund made a move to leave him there with the blade-wielding elven brothers.

"You have a wife. You can understand what they are going through," came Beregund's quick respond as he swiftly walked away, as if making his escape. "Talk to them, my lord. They'll listen to you. But whatever you do, don't mention the word '_baby_'."

"_What_?" Faramir was clearly flabbergasted at this.

"What in Arda is going on here?" Muttering to himself, he turned back to watch the two sons of Thranduil trying to tear each other's guts. To some people, the brothers truly looked like they were trying to kill each other. But, as he knew those two, Faramir could see that they had gone through this same routine a million times before. Stripped to their waist, each prince gracefully moved in sync with the other—lashing, parrying, jumping, swinging—without shedding even a drop of blood.

Keldarion was armed with a vicious looking sword, while his younger brother had twin daggers twirling in both hands. In fast lightning moves, Legolas jerked up his blades, aiming for Keldarion's lungs. The elder prince flipped backward, rolling with the blow, the sharp point of Legolas' daggers barely left a trail down his bare chest. Regaining his footing, Keldarion instantly swung his sword towards his brother's neck.

Muttering an oath, Legolas dived to the ground and rolled under the swiping long blade. He came up on his haunches and jerked up his daggers once more, this time aiming for Keldarion's most vulnerable anatomy.

That caused Keldarion to freeze instantly. He dropped his swinging arm and glared down at his brother.

"Not my groin, blast you!" he shouted. "Aim them anywhere but _there_!"

Legolas broke into a wide grin, also relaxing. He had expertly pulled back his weapons at the very last moment. "Why? You have the desire to sire some offspring after all?"

His eyes drawing to a slit, Keldarion stared hard at his brother. He threw down his sword to the ground, saying, "Do you want to know my favorite way to kill you, Legolas? _With my bare hands_!"

Keldarion already had his fingers wrapped around Legolas' throat, throttling him, when Faramir decided that it was the signal for him to intervene. "All right, you two. Break it off. This is getting far too nasty for my taste."

The two brothers froze and whirled around to gape at the man. Too immersed in their affair, they hadn't even realized that they had an audience.

"Where the heck did _you_ come from?" Legolas blurted, slapping Keldarion's hands away.

"From a bedlam," Faramir answered as he walked towards them. Then he added in a much lower voice, "And landed into another bedlam."

"Huh?" The two brothers blinked back at him.

"Never mind." With a slight grin, the man shook his head. "So, what's really going on here? Trouble in paradise?"

Legolas glanced askance at his brother. "Yes. Sort of. Someone here has the…"

"Don't even say it," Keldarion warned, putting up a hand. "Not another word from you, Legolas."

"Why ever not?" Putting down his twin blades on a bench nearby, Legolas grabbed a towel and began to wipe the sweat that rolled down his chest and face. "Come on, Kel. It's time we discussed this. You need to deal with this issue. You have to accept that you can't run away from it any longer. It's no use dancing around and under it."

"What issue?" Faramir asked. He belatedly realized that the 'issue' must have something to do with the word 'baby' that Beregund had warned him about a short while ago.

"None of your business." Keldarion glared at Faramir, causing the man to squirm under the penetrating gaze of the elf's sharp blue eyes.

_Hmm. Beregund was not joking when he said Keldarion is in a strange mood_, Faramir mused. _Wonder who got the stick shove up his…_

"Pardon us for the lack of courtesy, Faramir, but what brings you here?" Legolas asked, cutting off the man's thought. He tossed the towel to his elder brother, along with a look that said, "Be nice."

Keldarion harrumphed in respond, but complied enough to shake the man's hand, saying, "And it is not even noon yet."

Faramir emitted a soft chuckle. "Sorry about that. But I left Minas Tirith only late last night after my monthly council with the king. I figured that I should drop some…uh…disturbing news on you before I head back to Emyn Arnen."

Legolas stood frowning, his interest piqued. "What disturbing news? Is something wrong with Aragorn? Or is it Arwen? Are they all right?"

"Err…not exactly," the man said with a grimace. Then he quickly added when he saw the look of alarm on the brothers' faces, "But it's not the way you think, though. The king and queen are perfectly well—in health, at least. It's just that they are feeling quite distraught right now."

"What do you mean?" Keldarion asked.

"Before I explain further, answer me this first. Is Prince Eldarion lodging here in this keep?"

The elves exchanged puzzled glances before turning back to the man, their eyes widening.

"Of course not," Legolas replied. "What gave you that idea?"

Faramir sighed, running a hand though his wind-blown hair. "I was really hoping that his highness was here, despite what he wrote on that note."

"What note?" Legolas' frown deepened. He grabbed the man's shoulders, shaking him like mad. "What the blazes is going on with Darion? Tell us!"

"Easy, brother. You're frightening the man out of his wits." Keldarion pulled Legolas away, staring hard at Faramir. "Start talking now or I'll let him throttle you to kingdom come."

Faramir snorted, slightly amused, as he straightened his tunic. He was far from frightened of Legolas or Keldarion, but more of his own wife. If Éowyn saw the wrinkles in his shirt, she would sermon him from night till dawn!

"Like I said, I just returned from Minas Tirith and I bring you some disturbing news."

"We know that part, now what else?"

"Prince Eldarion has gone missing."

**TBC…**

**Have anyone seen the extended trailer of 'Kingdom of Heaven'? OMG! I have, more than fifty times, which left drooling every time I watched it! Orli is one HOT knight!**


	2. 2

**Szhismine**** Oh, mellon, I'm so glad you forgive me! **

**Joee1**** Yes. I _dare_ to have a life. LOL!**

**Althelas**** Promise not to hurt your favorite elves? Not a chance!**

**Karriya**** Keldarion is feeling grumpy, that's why he thinks Faramir is too early to give them a call. Do you really want to see the trailer? Give me your e-mail address and I'll send it to you. I have it saved in my PC.**

**A. NuEvil**** So, you like Liam Neeson, eh? So do I! I can't forget his character in Rob Roy! **

**Keluin**** Lossehelin**** I'll go and have a look at your fic, mate!**

**Begginning-end-314 :**** Kel's wedding coming right up not long after. **

**Theo darkstar**** Legolas already have two babies. As for Kel, this chapter will more or less explain his exact situation.**

**Leralonde**** I don't know what Faramir was thinking when he heard about Legolas working out, but I'm sure you are thinking what _I'm_ thinking! LOL! The part of the trailer that I like best is when Godfrey slaps Balian after his son takes oath as a knight, "And that's for you to remember it". Very poignant.**

**Dolphingurl678**** I'll try to be as unique as I can to keep you happy. I'm one wacky lady after all. He he he…**

**Corkybo**** Thank you very, very much. I love being one of your favorite authors!**

**Rutu**** There's a desert somewhere in the land of Harad. Oops! Did I say Harad? I think I've just given away the plot! No, Kel's wife is not pregnant. _Yet_. She is trying to, but Kel is playing chicken. Ha ha ha! Not that he can't produce, though. He's just…uh…can't tell you yet. (You want a story about Faramir's wedding? I'll try to explain it in the story of Kel's wedding."**

**Seylin**** Her name is Aislin. And they are already married, but I haven't posted their wedding story yet. Trust me, that ceremony was a complete disaster.**

**Legosgurl**** I think this chapter will also keep you sniggering the entire time.**

**Lost-elf :**** The problem is, when the brothers are together, they always land in trouble!**

**Jubisaurus**** Orli's voice is indeed captivating. So are his lips, his eyes, his cheekbones, his chin, his three-days-beard, his…Ahem! I'd better stop now before I mention the rest of his captivating anatomy!**

**Yami**** Tai :**** Maybe Hawkeye will be involved in this one. I can't see it yet, maybe later. (Do you want me to send to you the trailer?)**

**The Dane :**** You are soooo lucky! I want to see Orli in the streets of my town too!**

**Astalder**** Yep. Torture all around!**

**Thank you so much for the overwhelming reviews, guys! You make my plot bunnies incredibly happy! And here's the next chapter.**

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"Prince Eldarion has gone missing," Faramir had said.

The elven brothers silently stared at the man for a very long time.

"All right, Faramir. That's not funny," Legolas finally said.

"No, it's not," the man agreed.

"You mean you were not pulling our legs?" Keldarion's eyes widened. "You were actually telling us the truth?"

"Of course, I spoke the truth! I would never joke about such a thing!" Faramir began to get irritated. _What's the matter with these two, anyway?_

"Oh." The brothers had the grace to look apologetic.

And then they began to grow frantic, Legolas especially. He had known the crown prince of Gondor since the boy was a tiny baby. Eldarion had officially become his adopted son, a surrogate elder brother to Legolas' own little twins. He loved Eldarion the way he had loved Aragorn as a boy, and to hear that the young prince had gone missing was like being doused by a pail of icy water. If he was feeling this way, Valar knows what Aragorn and Arwen were going through right now.

Taking a deep breathe, Legolas forced himself to calm down. Collecting his blades, he motioned for the other two to follow him. "Let's take this into the parlor. We can talk more there," he said, all business.

Keldarion had already picked up his sword from the ground. He slung the damp towel over one shoulder and walked next to Faramir, following after the lord of Ithilien.

After ordering the servants to bring in some refreshments, Legolas showed his guests to their seats before he started pacing in front of the hearth.

"Faramir, how long has Darion been missing?"

"About two days now," the man replied, feeling a bit overdressed as he observed the two brothers' attire. Faramir was still wearing his travel cloak and gloves, while the elven princes were clad in leggings and nothing else; their hair still damp from their exercise, their bodies glistened with sweat. Neither Keldarion nor Legolas seemed to be aware of the man's discomfort, though.

"You said he wrote a note." Keldarion looked directly at the man. "What does it say?"

Faramir ruefully shook his head. "What every fifteen-year-old hell-bent for freedom would write, I believe. In the note, he asked his mother not to worry about him because he has to leave home to prove that he is now an adult and can take care of himself."

"_Adult_?" Keldarion didn't agree. "A fifteen-year-old _human_? Now that's rich. When he was fifteen, Legolas was still in diapers!"

"No, I _wasn't_!" Legolas glared at his grinning brother. Turning back to Faramir, he asked, "Is that all the note said?"

"There's more, but I think you need to read the note yourself to understand what's really going on," the man said. "That boy is not on speaking term with his father."

Legolas' eyes widened as he got the gist of the entire affair. Knowing Eldarion, something he had done must have made his father incredibly mad enough to punish him. "I see. What did Darion do this time?"

Faramir waited when a servant walked in bearing a tray of drinks and sliced fruits. Looking both amused and incredulous, the man resumed speaking after the servant had left, "It all started three days ago, I think. Aragorn went to see his ailing favorite mount in the stable, but found his heir romping about in the hay with a young wench instead."

Legolas' mouth dropped open, while Keldarion nearly dropped the water glass he just picked up from the tray.

"Are you serious?" Keldarion quickly put down his glass. He was shaking from laughter so hard he feared he might lose his grip.

Faramir nodded. "That's what the king told me."

"Eldarion? _Wenching_?" Legolas was still deeply shock. "But isn't he too young for such…err…activity?"

Keldarion let out a faint snort. "To _you_, maybe. I remember you determinedly trying to remain a virgin even when the maidens were working hard to drag you into a secluded corner and…"

"Kel, you'd better shut up now or I'll shove my fist down your throat," Legolas cautioned his brother with a scowl.

Keldarion shut his mouth, but his lips were twitching. Faramir was a bit disappointed because he was highly interested to know the rest of 'virgin Legolas' story.

"Faramir? You were saying…?" Still scowling, Legolas urged the man to continue.

"Yes, well…" Faramir coughed to hide his smile. "It was not pretty what happened afterwards. They got into an argument, sending accusations back and forth, which left Aragorn no other choice but to punish his son. As expected, the boy rebelled in return by running away from the citadel."

"Hmm. I knew Eldarion reminded me of _someone_ in this room," Keldarion muttered, playfully tapping a finger against his chin as if he was deep in thought.

Refusing to rise to the bait, Legolas ignored his brother. "Don't they think that wench girl might know where Eldarion is? Has anyone asked her?"

At this, Faramir frowned. "You know what? The funny thing is no one knows who she was. Nobody has seen her before. The king only caught a glimpse of her face as he ushered his son out of the stable, terribly relieved that he managed to stop them before things could turn into something beyond repair. We tried to find the girl afterwards but with no success. The only person who knows her seemed to be Prince Eldarion himself."

"That's odd," Keldarion voiced out. "Surely the girl couldn't have disappeared into thin air."

"You think that there's more to all this?" Legolas exchanged looks with his brother. "Is something else afoot?"

"Like, maybe Eldarion has been abducted, you mean?"

Legolas didn't like it, but that's what he really thought, despite the note that Eldarion had left behind. "I don't want to believe that, but I do want to know where he has gone to. We need to help find him, Kel."

Keldarion nodded. "How about if we take a ride to Minas Tirith and start from there?"

"Fine by me," Legolas replied. "Besides, our lady wives are not here. We have this period of time entirely to our own devices."

At the mention of 'wives', Keldarion's face clouded over. "Now you've just ruined my good mood," he sullenly said. "Can we stop talking about those females for a moment?"

"Oh, for crying out loud." Legolas rolled his eyes heavenward. "Enough of this grumbling, Kel! You need to speak with Aislinn and tell her exactly how you feel about having a baby. Be honest with her and stop circling around the matter as if it wasn't there."

"But she's stubborn! She won't give me a chance to reason with her," Keldarion shot back. "When she wants something, she expects that she'll get it! No argument allowed."

"Oh, guess what, Kel? You're kind of pigheaded too. It's like the pot calling the kettle black, you understand what I'm saying?"

Faramir watched, wide-eyed, as the brothers squabbled. He was smart enough to grasp the general idea what the argument was all about.

"Err…" the man cleared his throat to get the elves' attention. "I understand that your wife wants a baby very badly, Kel?"

"Yes. So what?" Keldarion growled back at him, irritated and slightly embarrassed to have someone else knowing about his currently fragile relationship with his wife.

"And I understand you don't want a baby? Is that it?"

"It's not that I don't want a baby. Of course, I want a baby, but it's just too soon and I…" Keldarion stopped babbling and glared at the man. "No. I won't let either one of you make me spill out my guts all over the floor. I can handle my own marital affair."

His eyes glinting furiously, Keldarion stood and left the room with a parting shot to his brother, "We are leaving for Minas Tirith in ten minutes!"

With his brother gone, Legolas let out a heavy sigh. "That stubborn idiot," he muttered, his head shaking.

Faramir couldn't help but grin. "And I thought that's what everyone likes to call _you_."

In spite of it all, Legolas chuckled. "We got that stubborn streak from our father, I guess. Some people even say that the three of us have a rock for our head!"

The two laughed. And then Faramir asked Legolas about his two little twin sons. "How are Linden and Hadrian?"

A benign smile appeared on Legolas' lips. "They are well the last time I saw them."

"Where are they? I can't hear them. Shouldn't they be in one of their giggling sessions at this time of a day?"

At this, the elf grimaced. "Nara took them along with her to Eryn Lasgalen."

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't trust me to care for them on my own, that's why. She's afraid that I'll let the boys play with knives and daggers or fall down the stairs or jump off the roof or whatever it was that I did when I was a wee toddler!" Legolas sounded highly frustrated. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair in one careless move.

Faramir broke up laughing. He couldn't help it. "No, I mean why did she go to Eryn Lasgalen in the first place? I know Aislinn is mad at Keldarion, but is Nara mad at you too?"

"Not exactly mad, but…" Legolas shrugged. "Well, not exactly pleased with me, either."

"How so?"

Legolas gave the man a rueful smile. "You can say that I took my brother's side in the entire matter—at first. I mean, you got to give support to your own brother, right? Besides, this is _females_ we are talking about. Who knows what's really cooking in their cunning mind?"

"Right." Faramir nodded with a grin. He instantly thought of Éowyn, who liked to drive him crazy with her interesting moods.

"I guess that was a mistake." Legolas sighed. "As a lady, a wife and a mother, Narasene definitely felt acute empathy for Aislinn. She said that she's the only one who can understand the woman's true feelings. So she decided to stay close to her friend and give Aislinn _her_ support. She gathered the boys and left the next day, leaving me here to deal with my brother who is fast becoming a big pain in the butt!"

"Poor you," Faramir said, amused.

"Yes, poor me. I'm a victim of the situation, I know." Then he grinned. "But I wonder how our father handles those two ladies, though?"

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The thought of their wives was far from their mind when the two brothers arrived in Minas Tirith late that afternoon, right before dusk.

They were shown directly into the king's family room, where Aragorn sat at the dining table, staring gloomily at the platters of delicacies without even touching them. He had no appetite to consume his dinner, so worried he was by his son's disappearance. Even his three daughters were subdued, not behaving their usual playful self. The princesses glanced at one another, glanced at their silent father, and pulled their eyes back to their plates, looking so forlorn and lost.

Queen Arwen was no better. Her face was pale and her eyes were puffy, a sure sign that she had done a lot of crying since her only son had gone missing. But for the sake of her other children, she put on a brave face and acted the serene queen she was. She smiled and rose from her seat as the Mirkwood brothers entered.

"Legolas, Keldarion, we are very pleased that you come to visit us," she genuinely enthused, reaching out her hands to embrace both princes.

"The pleasure is all ours, milady," Keldarion responded, hugging her in return. There was a slight pang of regret in his heart when he breathed her wondrous scent for Arwen had once been his great love, a very long time ago. But now that both had gotten married to mortals and felt content with it, he was glad that things had turned out the way they were. Even though they had their own separate lives, still they remained good friends.

"Will you stop calling me that?" Arwen gently chided him. "We are family, remember?"

Then came the sound of scraping chair and footsteps thumping, followed by a high sound of a little girl shrieking, "Uncle Legolas! Uncle Legolas!"

Legolas grinned when the youngest princess of Gondor ran and flew into his arms. He caught her and swung her around. "Hello, Enelya. You look pretty in that yellow dress."

To his dismay, she broke down and cried, burying her cute little face against his neck. Legolas quickly soothed her, "There, there. What's with these tears, hmm? Why so unhappy?"

Enelya looked up and gazed at him with eyes that were identical to her mother's. "Father is sad, mommy is sad, everyone is sad, and that makes _me_ sad. No one is smiling and laughing anymore. This is all Darion's fault. When he comes home, I'm going to kick his…"

With a loud gasp, Arwen quickly reached up and covered her daughter's mouth. "No cussing words, dear. You're a lady."

The girl pushed her mother's hand away. "But I was only trying to say that I'll kick his _shin_. What's so wrong with that?"

Even the glum-faced Aragorn had to smile at this. The king came forward to take his daughter from Legolas' arms. "I promise that I'll let you kick Darion's shin when he gets home, princess. But we need to find him first. Now, if you have finished your dinner, why don't you let Nessa and Elanor take you to your room so that you can play with your dolls. What say you?"

"But uncle Legolas and uncle Keldarion are here," she said after she stuck out her tongue at her two elder sisters who came closer to take her away.

"Indeed, they are. I believe they will help us find your brother, so I need to discuss many things with them."

"And when adults talk, the children should not interfere," Enelya said with a pout.

"That's right." Aragorn exchanged grins with the other adults before turning back to her youngest child. "Go on now, baby. I'll tuck you in afterwards."

Enelya gazed deeply into her father's eyes, her small hand stroking his cheek. "Don't be sad, father. Darion will come back."

Aragorn's smile slipped a little bit, his eyes tearing up.

"I believe so too, sweetheart," he softly said. "Thank you for assuring me."

After kissing Enelya's cheek, the man put the girl down into her sisters' care. The three princesses kissed their parents goodnight and left the room. At Arwen's signal, the servants also left, closing the door quietly behind them.

Aragorn turned to the elven brothers and smiled ruefully. "At least my daughters still love me."

Frowning a bit, Arwen touched her husband's arm. "Everyone loves you, my dear."

"But my only son hates me." Aragorn sighed and went to take a seat on the long couch near the hearth.

He buried his head in his hands. "Ai. Darion hates me."

**TBC…**


	3. 3

**Lost-Elf :**** Nope, that is just not me. He he he…**

**Yami**** Tai :**** Err…I like to be Queen better. I get to wear beautiful dresses! LOL! **

**Karriya**** The trailer is in Window format. I just sent it to you, and I hope you've received it. Now, to answer your question; No, she's not a Haradrim.**

**Leralonde**** The new Legolas-Aragorn adventure? Come to think of it, yeah, I do have one in mind. But the plotline is still blurry.**

**Sailor-Elf :**** Is Stargate-SG1 still shown on tv? To tell you the truth, I like the movie-version better.**

**Keluin**** Lossehilin**** Unlike you, I'd rather be married to Thranduil! Har! Har!**

**Deana**** Yep. The entire male population has _big _problems. Serve them right!**

**Ceyxa**** I know what you mean. I never directly told my dad or my mom that I hate them, but I avoided speaking to them once, and that caused them great hurt. I guess action do speak louder than words. I've sworn never to do that ever again.**

**Rutu**** Aragorn is Darion's father, and still you asked me where the boy gets his stubbornness from? Tsk. Tsk. It's all in the genes, mate. It's all in the genes. Now that you mention it, yeah, there's no big difference between the father and son's respective situations, isn't it? LOL! Oh, go ahead. Use Kel as your theatre thingie (And by the time you read this, you might have returned from the competition already, so how did it go?). For you, mellon, I declare September 1st as Keldarion's birthday!**

**Seylin**** I'm thinking of writing a 'virgin Legolas' story. What say you? (sniggers)**

**Kel**** He he he. Keep on blabbering, mate!**

**Beginning-end-314 :**** I know, I got loads of stories to write. But Eldarion's wenching problem? Err…I'll think about it. I don't know if it's gonna be a PG (but it's quite lewd) or NC-17 (but Darion is just 15)!**

**Jamie**** Thank you so much. It's readers like you that gives me the ideas to come out with all different kinds of plots.**

**AragornLegolas**** There'll be no war in this one, but I promise that there's going to be plentiful of battle scenes. I'm all geared up!**

**I'm so glad that you all like little Enelya! As we all know, Tolkien had not mention the names of Aragorn's three daughters, so I had to discuss with my fellow Tolkien lovers before we came out with Enelya, Nessa and Elanor. Hmm. My plot bunnies are jumping up and down every time I mention Enelya's name. Wonder what's wrong with them?**

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Keldarion glanced at his brother, muttering through the corner of his mouth, "Now you understand why I fear to have a baby?"

"Not now, blockhead," Legolas whispered back. With a soft sigh, he silently approached his friend and sat next to him. Aragorn looked up, his face a myriad of emotions, which included pain and guilt.

Legolas grasped the man's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Darion doesn't hate you, Estel."

Aragorn chuckled without humor. "That boy refused to speak to me for days after I punished him for that act in the stable, and then he just up and disappeared, leaving a note addressed only to his mother. And you still think he doesn't hate me?"

"He feels anger at you, not hatred. There's a difference." Keldarion took a seat on the man's other side. "Take my brother here, for example. He always got on the wrong side of our father. They fought constantly like cats and dogs, giving everyone else the mother of all headaches—especially me."

Legolas sent his brother a dirty look. "What kind of example is _that_?"

"A good one. Stop interrupting me, there's more," Keldarion firmly said. "Now, where was I…? Oh, Right. Cats and dogs. Legolas and our father are so very much alike that they couldn't even see their differences at first. But in the end, after they spent time thinking about them, everything turned out well. Then they grew to love and respect each other more and more each day.

"Now, what I believe here, Estel, is that your son loves you greatly, and very close to worshipping you. He knows all about the great adventures you've gone through when you were his age, and that's what he desires so much—to be just like you. He wants your approval and for you to be proud of him."

Aragorn scoffed half-heartedly. "I _am_ proud of him. He didn't need to tumble in the hay with a wench just to prove his point!"

"Yes, well, I agree with you that his method was a bit inappropriate," Legolas said, wincing slightly.

Keldarion grinned as he added, "To _you_, maybe."

Aragorn and Arwen stared uncomprehendingly as Legolas glared daggers at his brother accompanied by a low hiss, "_Shut up_."

Smiling, the elder elf turned his full attention back on the king of Gondor. "Of course, you're proud of your son, Estel. So is every father on this earth if he has a fine son like that. The only question is, does Eldarion know?"

The man grew thoughtful. He looked at his wife who sat on another couch across from them.

"I always told him that I love him. But I never told him that I'm proud of him, did I?" he asked her quietly.

Arwen leaned over and clasped his clenched fist in her graceful hands. "You are a very busy man, my dear. You have got lots of things on your mind."

"But that is not an excuse to be ignorant of my son's true feelings." Aragorn sighed, raking a hand through his hair. His gaze flew across the room and caught the large painting of Eldarion at seven years of age, hanging on the wall. Legolas had done that painting, and the elf's talented hands had perfectly depicted the boy's sparkling blue eyes and somewhat dreamy expression on his fair adorable face; his clothes a bit rumpled, his hair mussed—a sure sign that he had recently been wild at play.

The painting showed Eldarion at the most joyful period of his life. It was the time when this pampered little prince was never denied anything. He romped freely about like a puppy—always laughing, always up to mischief. But when he was thirteen years old, his life had taken a drastic turn.

An assassination attempt on the king when he was making his monthly tour of his kingdom had gone awry. The arrow that was meant for Aragorn had struck his son riding next to him instead, causing the boy to nearly bleed to death. If not for his father's healing knowledge, Eldarion _would_ have died that day. To say that the king was upset about the incident was an understatement. In fact, he was constantly in fear for his heir's life and found it hard to trust Eldarion without guardsmen surrounding him.

Every measure was taken to confirm the prince's safety. He was not allowed to leave his chamber unescorted, confined within the walls of the citadel, no longer free to romp about like he used to. Even his companions were carefully chosen for him by his parents. Naturally, it had not taken him long to detest this new arrangement.

A creature of open space, just like his sire, Eldarion had rebelled. He would hide from his guards and attempt to find his own companions. He did all the don'ts and detested all the dos. Bright and eager to learn, he loved it during sword training and classes of strategy and warfare, but completely had no patience on the subject of philosophy. When his boredom was at maximum, he would sneak out into town for some exploration, giving his father no small amount of displeasure.

Hence, the father and son constantly butted heads in disagreement. Aragorn would punish Eldarion for his misbehavior, Eldarion would go sulking somewhere, Aragorn would order more eyes upon his son, Eldarion would break away, and the whole process would start all over again!

Deep down, Aragorn knew that he was being too overprotective with his son. He would balk at such constrains himself sometimes. Occasionally, he mourned the lost of his erstwhile freedom as a northern ranger—no more wandering into every nook and cranny of Middle-earth like he used to, no more jumping into one exploit after another, and no more slaying orcs and goblins for he had a large army to do that for him now. As a king, he was followed everywhere by a long trail of escorts and guardsmen and advisers and servants and…well, the list went on. To be honest, he resented the entire affair. Yet, when it came to his own children, he just couldn't help fixing the same annoying restrictions on them.

Sighing again, Aragorn leaned over and stared down at his feet. "I thought I've done my best for Darion. He is almost a man, yet I still treat him as I would a child."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Estel," Legolas advised. "_My_ father still treats me as if I'm still in diapers."

"Come to think of it, yes, I think you still _are_," Keldarion laughed.

"You swine!" Growling, Legolas reached across Aragorn's back to whack his brother upside the head, and that caused the king to break up laughing, his mood restored.

"What's going on between you two?" Aragorn asked, his eyes twinkling with merriment for the first time in many days. "Is there something I should know about?"

"Well, there's _something_ definitely wrong with Kel but I'll let you know all about it later," Legolas said with a warning glare towards his brother. "Now, let's get back to Eldarion. Where is the note he left you?"

"I keep it in my drawer. I'll go get it." Arwen rose and hurried off towards her chamber, the soft silk of her gown swirling gracefully about her legs.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Aragorn exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He went to pour the brothers a glass of wine each. "You just arrived, all traveled worn and thirsty, and I didn't even offer you to join our family dinner."

"That was kind of you, Estel. But we don't see you eating _your_ meal," Keldarion said, nodding his thanks as he took the glass the man offered.

Aragorn shrugged. "I guess my mind was too focused on Darion. I mean, I keep asking myself; what did he have for dinner? What did he have for lunch? Or is he even alive to be able to eat, for that matter? Really, this starts giving me nightmares at night."

"Stop thinking the worst, brother. Come." Legolas pulled his friend back to the couch. "Now, have you told the twins about Darion?"

Aragorn's smile was weak. "Missives were sent to Rivendell, but no response has been received yet. I believe El and Ro have left home for an expedition deep into the Misty Mountains. Remember they once told us about it?"

The elves nodded as they recalled the conversation they had had with Elladan and Elrohir, Aragorn's foster brothers.

"Yes, I remember." Keldarion grinned. "Those two old fools are nuts."

"Yes, that's exactly what I told them." The king chuckled. "But those two old fools are exceptional trackers. I learned all the tricks from them, didn't I?"

He shook his head, dejectedly. "It would take some time for this news to reach the twins. By then, any trace of Darion will turn cold, before it disappears altogether. My men have searched every inch of this kingdom but found no clue to investigate further. The guards saw nothing, the servants heard nothing. Even his mother who he tells everything never expected he would go this far. Darion took no clothes with him, no money and no food. He only left us a note and a dead end."

Arwen appeared shortly after with the said note. Legolas took the folded paper from her and began to read silently,

_Dearest, mother. By the time you read this, I'm already long gone. I know it's wrong to cause you hurt like this, but I need to leave this place before father and I start killing each other. He just can't see that I need some space to breathe, to be my own person. I'm not a baby anymore, but he makes me feel like I'm not yet weaned. _

_I know how our constant argument distresses you, mother, so I chose to leave, or things might get even worst than it already is. I want to prove to him that I'm not the hopeless little boy he still thinks I am. I'm a man now. Albeit too young, but a man nonetheless. _

_Mother, please don't worry about me. I know how to take care of myself. I promise to write to you and let you know how I fare. Send my love to my sisters, and tell my father not to find me. I'll come home when the right time arrives._

_Love, Eldarion._

Legolas handed the letter to his brother after he finished reading. He gazed sympathetically at his friend's glum features. "Where did you find the note?"

"In my trinket box," Arwen replied, sitting beside her husband. "I don't know how long it had been there, but I found it hours after Darion failed to appear at dinner."

Aragorn squeezed his wife's hand. "I thought he was running off again with that wench, so I told the men to search everywhere for them both. Either Darion was very slick, or he had an accomplice to get through the gates. No one had even seen him. His guardians had thought he was still sulking inside his room, sleeping the whole day away."

Keldarion neatly folded the note before returning it to Arwen. He was frowning when he raised his wine glass back to his lips. "What punishment did you put upon him for that stunt with the girl?"

The king grimaced. He glanced briefly at his wife before answering, "It's…err…I guess it was not the right kind of punishment for a fifteen year old boy after all."

"What exactly did you do to him? Make him stood in a corner and gave him a long sermon until his ears turned red?" Legolas asked, smiling as he remembered the usual punishment he had received from his own father every time he had misbehaved.

"No, but I truly wish I did _that_." Aragorn looked mite uncomfortable. His jerkin felt a bit tight at the collar. "I turned him over my knee and spanked his bum."

The wine that Keldarion was sipping went down the wrong way, causing him to choke. Legolas' eyes bulged.

"You did _what_?" they both incredulously cried out.

"But he's as tall as you are!" Keldarion accepted a clean kerchief from Arwen to wipe the dribble off his chin.

"Aye. And quite as strong, too. Darion must be terribly embarrassed," Legolas added. "Estel, what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking, that's the problem!" Aragorn groaned, burying his head in his hands. That was the second time he did that tonight. "I was so angry I nearly choked him. I never trained my son to be a…a…a bloody philanderer, for crying out loud! I trained him to be my heir!"

"Don't take this the wrong way, Estel, but most boys his age already feel the pull towards the other gender," Keldarion said in a soothing manner. "It's natural."

"I know that but…the _stable_?" Aragorn looked anguished as he raised his head. "Why the stable? Why behave like animals?"

"You mean you rather let him have it inside his room?" Legolas asked, half teasing.

The man glared. "Definitely _not_. He is a prince. He should know better. Besides, he's too young. He is completely ignorant of the girl's true intention. She might be taking advantage of him. She might want him only for his worth and title, not for what Darion is really inside as a person. Nobody knows where this girl came from. Why, she might even be a spy who is paid to lure our son away from us!"

"All right, Estel. We got your point there," Legolas hurriedly said, patting the flustered man's shoulder to placate him. "So, there is also the other possibility that Darion has been abducted."

At this, both Aragorn and Arwen turned pale with dread.

"Oh, no," Arwen gasped, her fist in her mouth. "You think that's what really happened to Darion? He is not running away and that someone had actually captured him? But what about the note he left? It's his handwriting."

"Someone might have forced him to write it, just to mislead us." Keldarion gazed at the stricken looking couple and smiled reassuringly. "But maybe Darion _did_ run away, so don't worry too much. He can't go far, unless someone helps him."

"We _will_ help find him for you," Legolas assured the king and queen. "But first we must figure out how a well-known crown prince of Gondor managed to leave the city walls without anyone noticing. How did he pass through the gates without anyone stopping him?"

"By not being himself," Keldarion stated, looking thoughtful.

Puzzled, Legolas turned to his brother. And then he smiled when he understood what Keldarion meant. "Right, he was in disguise. We all know that he didn't take his clothes with him. They were too fine and rich, very noticeable. But nobody would look twice at him if he wears the clothes of common decent people. We only need to know if he travels alone or with company. If there's some company with him, we need to find out who or what they are."

Aragorn's face slowly brightened at this. _Now we have something to start with._

"I'll order the officers at the gates for a full report of every team and wagon leaving this city. We can narrow the list down and pinpoint the exact group which Darion is highly likely to blend in with."

The man rose and went out the door. They could hear him telling the guards to bring the gate officers to his audience, his voice firm and his back straight once more.

The king of Gondor was back in office.

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The boy lay moaning on the ground, next to the overturned cart. His eyes were closed, yet the sound of a girl screaming did not escape his ears.

With much difficulty, he raised his head and blinked, causing a violent wave of nausea to wash over him. Biting down his lower lip as he bore down the pain and discomfort, the boy looked around him in increasing horror.

The carnival troupe he had been traveling with had been reduced to slain bodies and raided wagons. The band of robbers that had blocked their way earlier was still hanging around following their cold-blooded plunder, searching through the rubbles for anything else of value. A hundred feet away, several of the men were laughing and jeering drunkenly as they crowded over something at their feet.

The girl's scream came again. The boy's face drained of all color as he realized what the men were doing to her.

Growling with rage, he staggered to his feet and ran towards the group. Injured and weaponless, he knew he had no chance against the burly ruffians, but he just couldn't let them hurt her anymore than she already was.

"Get off her!" he shouted, pushing through the unwashed sweat smelling bodies. "Enough! Leave her alone!"

Someone caught a fistful of his long dark hair, yanking his head backwards to keep him still.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" one of the men asked in amusement. He wore a patch over one eye, which gave him a sinister look. "Still alive, young one? And now trying to be a hero?"

Grimacing in agony, the boy threw a fist at him but the man quickly leaped away, laughing. And then, without warning, he aimed a kick towards the boy's belly with so much force that the youth doubled over, gasping for breath.

If not for the hands holding him upright, the boy would have fallen to the ground and curled into a ball. He whimpered from the acute pain still burning in his abdomen. "L…let her go…"

'Patch-eye' chuckled. "Did you hear that, guys? This boy wants us to free his girl. So very touching."

"Want me to kill him, boss?" One man was already pulling out his dagger. He pressed it against the boy's neck, drawing out some blood.

Patch-eye was thoughtful for a moment, staring at the boy's dirty yet handsome face.

"No, we take him with us," he decided shortly after. "He looks strong and healthy. He will bring us lots of money if we sell him to the slavers."

All the men smiled, murmuring in agreement. Amid the boy's protest and struggles, they began to tie him up before dumping him across the back of a horse.

Their task finished, they turned back to the girl. "What about her?"

Patch-eyed shrugged. "Just finish what we've started."

"No! Leave her alone!" The boy yelled, struggling with his bonds. Patch-eyed came near and clouted him viciously across the back of his head.

In the background, the girl screamed and screamed. Then she abruptly stopped.

And the boy heard nothing else.

**TBC…**


	4. 4

**My workstation is a mess due to the renovation that is still going on. But I manage to sneak into my boss's office and use his PC to post this chapter. Unfortunately, I can't stay here for long so I would be unable to reply all the wonderful reviews. I promise to do it next time. **

**Okay, got to go!**

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Aragorn instantly jerked awake in his bed, his heart beating rapidly as if he had been running hard for leagues. Disoriented, he irritably rubbed his eyes and struggled to a sitting position. To his surprise, he found that his cheeks were wet with tears.

Beside him, Arwen began to stir. Slightly alarmed, the queen of Gondor rose slightly to touch her husband's back. He was trembling like a leaf in a storm.

"Estel? What's the matter? Are you well?"

Aragorn quickly wiped his face before he turned around, forcing a smile on his lips. "I'm fine, my beloved. Nothing to worry about."

Arwen didn't fully believe him because under the glare of the night candles she could see the great distress so evident on his handsome features. The light in his eyes was dull, and there was a kind of paleness on his skin that was unnatural for a strong, healthy man like him. There was also a tightening around his mouth that was never there before.

Her own eyes tearing, she sat fully upright and embraced him. "Bad dreams again, my love?"

"Yes. Sort of." Aragorn sighed, hugging her tight. He could never hide anything from his observant wife.

She pulled back and gazed at his drawn face. Her tender hands brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "Want to talk about it?"

Aragorn looked highly chagrined. "It's…it was a just silly dream."

"But I can see that it still disturbs you."

"Yes, it does." He nodded, looking down at their joined hands. "I dreamed that we'd found Darion, only that he was already dead, killed by a pack of savages outside the city. I was screaming like a madman in the middle of Pelennor Field, holding our son's battered body in my arms, when suddenly I woke up."

The man raised his pain-filled eyes to look straight into his wife's. "I felt that I'd greatly failed him then. As his father and as his king, I've failed. What kind of a father I am that can't keep his own son safe? What kind of a king I am that can't protect what's his?"

"Shh…" She placed her fingertips against his lips. "You are a good father and king, Estel, you know that. Besides, it was just a dream, so stop showering yourself with guilt, it does not become you. Darion is alive. Somewhere, he's out there, having the adventure of his life. I can feel his soul soaring in my heart. Trust me, I will know when he's dead."

He passionately kissed her fingers before he cradled them against his chest. His other hand gently cupped her cheek. "You are to me what an anchor is to a ship. You keep me at berth and won't let me go astray, even though I'm being pulled into different directions by vicious, angry wind."

She softly chuckled and kissed his lips. "Why, my love, you are such a poet!"

"Some of Legolas' eloquence might have rubbed off into me, I guess." Aragorn grinned. "He has such incredible flair with words."

"Speaking of Legolas, do you think he's all right?" Arwen frowned slightly. "He and Kel acted somewhat peculiar this evening. They kept jumping down each other's throat for no apparent reason."

Aragorn's grin grew wider. Unlike Arwen, he had already figured out the real matter that was bothering the two brothers. "Don't mind them, Arwen. They are just having some problems with their wives, that's all."

"Oh?" She was completely intrigued. "What kind of problems? What's wrong with Nara and Aislinn? And where on earth are _you_ going?"

Laughing, Aragorn scrambled off the bed. He snatched his robe and put it on, putting his feet into his slippers. "Look, I can't tell you what's bothering them. It's none of my affair. But I'm going to check on them now. The last I saw, those two were still in my study, studying the list that the gate officers have given us."

After giving his wife a brief peck on the cheek, Aragorn swiveled around and hastily took off, much to his wife's exasperation.

"Estel! Come back here! I'm not finish talking with you!" Arwen cried out, glaring at the door closing behind her husband. She shook her head when the door remained close. Aragorn had made good his escape.

"Ai. Silly man," she grumbled. And then she smiled as she thought about the two elven brothers who were working hard to find her runaway son. She had known them for a very long time, enough for her to understand that they would do anything in their power to get Eldarion back. She fully believed that those two were going to succeed. With the Mirkwood brothers' help, Eldarion would return to his family.

With a soft sigh, Arwen settled back into her pillows. Closing her eyes, she painted Eldarion's face in her mind. She touched her throat where the pendant of the Evenstar had once graced. It was now hanging by a chain around her son's neck.

"Sleep well, my dear Darion," she whispered. "Wherever you are, I hope the spirit of Eärendil is watching over you."

The spirit of Eärendil was indeed watching over her son. But little did she know that the spirit of her son's great-grandfather witnessed how badly the boy was sleeping.

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As Aragorn neared his study, he could hear the sound of active murmurings coming through the opened doorway. He peered inside and smiled to see the brothers' heads close together as they bent over the gates' log books.

"I was right, then. You two are still wide awake, working on your research."

At the man's quiet voice, they elves sprang apart as if hit by lightning.

"Estel, you idiot!" Legolas scowled. "Don't surprise us like that again."

"Speak for yourself, brat. I was not surprise at all when he came in," Keldarion said with a smirk, trying to hide his own embarrassment. Aragorn's footsteps were so light that even his elven senses was late to detect the man's presence, which was to be expected because the king of Gondor had been reared by a great elven lord since his birth. Naturally, the man had inherited some of the elven stealth and gracefulness.

"But, Kel, you jumped as high as I did," Legolas disagreed with narrowed eyes.

"You are delirious. Go take a break like I told you to and don't come back until you feel sane enough to speak coherently," the elder prince easily responded before he turned to their friend. "So, what brings you down here so late at night?"

"Well, I…uh…" Aragorn hid back a smile when he saw the ferocious glare that Legolas was sending Keldarion's way. Not appreciating his brother's gibe, Legolas was bristling like an angry cat!

"I can't sleep," the man said shortly as he sat next to Keldarion. "What have you two found out so far?"

"So far, we both think you have various kinds of interesting people coming in and out of the city these last few days. You would be terribly rich if you start collecting toll money at the gate," said Legolas. He snatched the list from his brother's hands. "Now look at this for instance—we counted more than twenty merchant wagons, several groups of foreign delegacies, squadrons of Gondorian knights, hordes of travelers, hunters, mercenaries, as well as a fun-carnival troupe."

Keldarion jerked back the list out of Legolas' grasp. "Based on the estimated time of Darion's disappearance, we have narrowed down the list to five merchant wagons, a delegacy from Haradwaith, and the carnival troupe. Now that you're here, we need to hear your opinion on which party that your son tended to merge with."

Aragorn was silence for several moments as he perused the list, thinking it over. He then asked, "How did you come out with the shortlist, and on what basis—other than Darion's time of disappearance?"

Legolas excitedly answered, "Well, it's like this, Estel. Look at these five merchant wagons. Two of them were loaded with bolts of fabric, while the other two with crates of wine. As for the other, it carried an assortment of staple and grocery. Darion is very resourceful. He would improvise and squeeze into any available spaces among the goods to hide himself."

"What about the rest of the wagons?"

"Most of them were empty when they went through the gate, and several of them were near to overflowing which was not possible for Darion to steal in," Keldarion replied. "And there's a certain wagon that we are completely sure he did not dare approach."

"What wagon is that?"

"The one loaded with cow manure."

Aragorn blinked and broke up laughing. "Right, of course not."

He then pointed at the list that Keldarion gave him. "What about the Haradrim delegates?"

"You know how some of the Haradrims are dressed." Keldarion shrugged. "They wear a turban that covers most of their face. It would be a perfect disguise for Darion if he doesn't want anyone to recognize him, unless someone from the delegation tries to engage him in a conversation. Darion can't speak Harad to save his own skin."

"And the carnival troupe?"

"Now _that_ is the interesting part," Legolas was smiling with anticipation. "You see, because the troupe consists of fascinating traveling performers, the gate officer gave them extra attention when they came into the city a month ago. He noticed that—apart from a married couple, which is the owners—the troupe consist of seven dance girls, five acrobats, two jugglers, a show archer, a monkey, and a jester. But when the troupe passed through the gate two days ago, there were _two _jesters performing alongside their wagons. The new jester was totally unrecognizable because he wore colorful paints all over his face and a big silly hat on his head. Now, who is it in your family that has the talent and charm as an entertainer?"

Aragorn sat up straighter, his eyes shining bright with hope. "Darion, of course. He likes to put on plays for the entire family. He always makes us all roaring with laughter with his jokes and pantomimes."

The king tightened his grip on the list, staring hard at it as if his son's face would pop out of the paper. "He's with the carnival troupe, my heart can feel it," he said, excitedly. "This would be the kind of camouflage I would choose if I were him."

When the carnival first arrived in the city, Darion had been unwilling to take his sisters to see the performers, thinking that it was a dull occasion only suitable for children. But, after much cajoling and whining from little Enelya, he had given in and escorted the three princesses out of the citadel into the public square near the market place, where a large tent and platforms had been assembled for the show. Strangely, though, Darion had seemed a little preoccupied when they all returned from the carnival. Then Aragorn had received reports from various sources which told him that his son had visited the carnival for three consecutive times afterwards—_without_ his sisters. Something about the performers might have caught the prince's high interest.

"I won't be surprised if the wench in the stable turns out to be one of the troupe members. A dance girl, perhaps," the king said out loud, still staring at the list.

"If that's indeed the story, do you think Darion is eloping with her?" Legolas suggested, only half joking.

Aragorn was instantly horrified. "Not if I have my say on it! Go find him now before he does anything stupid!"

"Relax, Estel." Scowling at his brother, Keldarion placed a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. "We _will_ find him. We promise you this."

"We will return Darion to you, completely unscathed and still a bachelor," Legolas said. He then added with a grin, "And still a virgin, I hope. Knowing Darion, he is at the ripe age where his blood burns with the urge to…"

Aragorn groaned at that, burying his face in his hands. Wordlessly, Keldarion raised his arm and, none too gently, slapped the back of his younger brother's head to shut him up.

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Sitting with his back against the rough bark of a tree, Eldarion stared with growing dismay at the smooth flowing water of the River Anduin. His hope to be rescued was steadily diminishing with each league they put between them and Minas Tirith. His family didn't even know where he was, and he had no one else to blame for that but himself. Running away from home was definitely a stupid thing to do, especially when it had not settle anything but put him in more trouble than he already was.

Grunting a little, he continued working at his bonds. His chafed wrists were already stinging with his perspiration. But he ignored the pain as this would be his only chance to escape, for his captors' attention was focused elsewhere. When they crossed the river, he would be in unknown territory. From there, he was not sure he how he would find his way back—back to Minas Tirith, back towards home and family.

They had reached this small dock—about twenty leagues north-east of the port of Pelargir—right after dawn following hours of hard riding. After they had dumped their captive in one corner, the robbers started to make preparations to cross the river. All their stolen goods were packed securely in bundles and tied to the pack horses. Amid shouts and curses, the men led the anxious animals onto the raft that would take them across. Patch-eye, the head of the robbers, was seen haggling and arguing with the boat master over the raft fare.

Finally losing his patience, Patch-eye unsheathed his sword and placed the blade against the boat master's throat. "All right, old man, we do it my way. You take us across and we'll let you live. That's my last price. Shall we agree on that, or would you rather have my blade inside your windpipe as a mortgage?"

The boat master gulped in fear, but was braved enough to reply, "You won't dare kill me because you still need me to steer the raft."

"Oh, don't be too confident, old man." Patch-eye's grin was alarming. "Steering that stupid raft is a no-brainer. We can easily manage it ourselves if we put our mind to it. But if you choose to die rather than give us a favor, I am more than willing to…"

"All right, all right!" the boat master cried out, shrinking with his arms upraised as if to stop the falling blade. "I'll take you across. No need to pay me."

"Ah…" Patch-eye smiled and pulled the boat master upright. "Why was that so hard to say?"

Darion had been watching this exchange with mixed reactions. He had high hopes that the boat master would raise the alarm after seeing him securely bound and gagged like this, totally at the mercy of the ruffians. At the same time, he also felt dejected that the boat master didn't seem to know who Darion really was. In fact, the old man didn't really care to know about him right now. All he cared about was his raft!

A sudden kick to his side caused Eldarion to cry out in surprise pain.

"What do you think you're doing?" One of the men had come close to glower down at the prince. "Trying to escape, boy?"

Eldarion frantically shook his head, struggling to hide the loosening ropes on his wrists. The ruffian crouched over him and checked the bonds, grumbling with displeasure. Then, to the prince's utter dismay, the man brought out a fresh coil of rope. He roughly tied it around Eldarion's already abused wrists, causing the boy to wince from this manhandling.

Eldarion's captor was still grumbling when he gave the same treatment to the boy's feet. "Don't try to run from us, you hear me, boy? There's no where you can go that we can't follow."

Awash with fury, Eldarion instantly exploded. He jerked his legs to his chest before launching a swift kick into the man's face. Caught by surprise, the man could not avoid it in time and went sprawling onto his back with blood dribbling out of his cut lips.

Eldarion would not stop attacking. His arms still bound behind him, he rose gingerly to his feet and took a leap, tucking in his feet behind him so that the sharp point of his knees hit the supine man smack in his sternum.

Something cracked from the force. Eldarion went stumbling to the ground. Growling with anger, the boy made a move to rise once again but several strong hands were grabbing him to hold him still. A moment later, Patch-eye came into view. The ugly man was grinning.

"Well, well, well. The meek puppy has turned into a vicious wolf!" Patch-eye exclaimed, sneering into Eldarion's face. "Very impressive, boy. _Very_ impressive. If you were my son, I would be very proud of you."

Unable to reply due to the gag in his mouth, Eldarion just glared, his chest heaving from his recent exertion.

"He broke my ribs," the fallen man complained, hugging an arm close to his chest to still the pain.

Patch-eye gave him a dark look. "That's your fault, you imbecile! He is just a boy and yet you let him kick your ass!"

"But he…"

"Enough!" Patch-eye shouted, not wanting another argument. "Get back on your feet and gather your stuff. We are crossing now."

Eldarion shivered slightly as the man he'd injured gave him a menacing glare before striding towards the raft. The other ruffians also dispersed until Patch-eye was the only one left with their captive. The head robber was staring at the boy with keen interest.

"Who are you really, I wonder?" the man mused, holding his chin as if deep in thought. "You are more of a warrior than a carnival performer—_that_ is obvious."

Eldarion met his gaze head on, giving no outward response.

Shaking himself back to awareness, Patch-eye grabbed the boy by his collar and slung him over one massive shoulder. Eldarion started to struggle anew.

"Stop kicking me, you idiot!" Patch-eye growled, slapping hard at Eldarion's bottom, much to the prince's mortification. "You may have thrashed one of my men but don't ever think that you can do the same to me! I will watch you like a hawk, boy. And if you make even the slightest move to fight us and escape, I swear I'll kill you!"

**TBC…**


	5. 5

**Seylin**** Did I really say _hawk_? And will Hawkeye make his appearance? Hmm…we shall see, won't we? **

**Ceyxa**** Yep. That's Eldarion, just like his old man.**

**Rutu**** The brothers' fight won't hurt anyone, trust me. But if you want angst, I'll give you angst, coming up in the coming chapters.**

**Leralonde**** Kel's amazing restrain is due to thousands of years of training. He truly wants to say something to add to the 'virgin' thing, but he chooses to wait for the opportune moment.**

**A NuEvil**** Darion growing out of spanking? Err…I don't think so. I'll see to it that he doesn't. **

**Karriya**** KOH will be out here in Malaysia on May 5 too! I just can't wait! **

**Yami**** Tai :**** You re-read my stories? Aw…I'm so pleased. Yes, mellon, things will not turn out well for our favorite elf and his annoying beloved brother. They are in for another adventure! Angst and more angst. Who says their task would be easy? (Oh, and I take your advice and try not to be so stressed).**

**Legosgurl**** That's what brothers always do, fighting for no apparent reasons at all. Just ask my brothers. LOL!**

**Enigma Jade :**** Hey, nice to hear from you too! And good luck in your finals!**

**JoeAteMuffin**** Thank you my friend but I don't want cherry or apple pie. I want muffin! Cheese and blackberry muffin! And I want it now before you read this next chappie! (Actually, I really love apple pie. I don't know how to make one but I love to buy it from the McDonald's!)**

**TaniaNZ**** You are going to the Gold Coast? Cool! How about coming here to Kuala Lumpur afterwards? I can show you around. **

**ShayNA**** I'm so glad to know that you enjoy the T-series! My stories are not soap-operaish? Really? Oh, you just made my day, girl! Thank you!**

**Hello, everyone! I'm, not posting from my boss's office today, thank God! Starting from yesterday, my PC is back in working order—even though some of the system is still down. And guess what? I have tons of backlog paperwork on my table! Eeek! Help me!**

**Anyway, here's chapter 5. If I'm late updating afterwards, blame it on my boss!**

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It took Legolas and Keldarion a two days ride from Minas Tirith before they came upon the sad remains of the pursued carnival troupe, right in the middle of an isolated traders' road leading to Pelargir.

It was a sad scene indeed, with dead bodies lying exactly where they had fallen and the content of the overturned wagons carelessly strewn about. The two elves had to breathe through their mouth, for the stench from the rotting corpses was highly overpowering. A group of vultures were seen greedily devouring the carrions, but the large scavenger birds instantly took off into the air at the brothers' arrival, screeching in anger to have their feeding cut abruptly short.

Keldarion gave a low whistle of dismay. "Ai Elbereth. What the blazes happened here?"

The two brothers quickly dismounted after they exchanged troubled looks. They left their horses to graze and started walking wordlessly through the wreckage, praying that they wouldn't find Eldarion among the mutilated bodies.

Legolas let out a huge sigh of relief a while later. "All right. He's not among them. But that leaves us with the next question—_where_ exactly is he now? We were perfectly sure he was traveling with this company."

"Well, something dreadful just happened and he definitely would not linger anywhere near this place," Keldarion responded, grimacing at the awful sight of the body of a young man lying sprawl near a burnt wagon. The vultures had been cruel on him. They had picked out his eyeballs and tore open his belly to feed on his intestines. The condition of the other corpses was no better. Most of them lay in various stages of decomposition, almost beyond recognition.

Legolas was frowning as he looked at the devastation around him. "Based on their wounds, these people had been brutally attacked not more than four days ago. By a pack of robbers, maybe?"

Kneeling next to a headless female corpse, Keldarion nodded. "That's highly likely. Look at this one. Her head was severed clear off her neck—by a sharp sword, definitely. She also lost all her fingers, which made it easier for someone to steal her rings and chain—if she had been wearing any."

Legolas was rummaging through an overturned wagon. "I believe this was the owner's wagon. It's supposed to carry the troupe's earnings and treasures. And guess what, Kel? It has been completely ransacked."

Shaking his head in disgust, the younger elf walked back to his brother's side. "Estel has informed me that this area is highly dangerous for merchants and travelers. There have been many reports on robbery and highwayman encounters around here that Estel had to send out his army to apprehend the marauders, but it seems that they are very slick and elusive. On top of that, they are very bloodthirsty and—most often than not—they never left any survivor to tell the story."

The brothers stared anxiously at each other, thinking at the same thing.

_Did Darion survive this?_

On the day the princes left Minas Tirith, both Aragorn and Arwen had given them identical beseeching looks. The king and queen of Gondor had not the need to say the words, but the Mirkwood princes fully understood what was expected of them. They knew that everyone in the kingdom had high hopes that they would return with the lost crown prince, something which the brothers vowed not to disappoint.

Initially, Aragorn had suggested that Legolas and Keldarion take a squadron of Gondorim knights for escort. But the brothers had vehemently declined, saying that they moved and worked faster on their own.

"But the journey you will take might be dangerous." The man was clearly upset after the elven brothers had repeatedly said no. "No one knew where the tracking would lead you to. You need someone to watch your back!"

Legolas scoffed. "We are adult warriors, Estel—not foolish little boys. We can take care of ourselves."

"Oh, right." Now it was Arwen's turn to scoff. "The last time you ran off without your escort, a pack of foolish little boys took you captive."

Legolas glared at her, amid Keldarion and Aragorn's snickering.

"Don't worry, Arwen. I'll take care of him," Keldarion promised, smirking at his younger brother. "I'll make sure he doesn't get into any trouble."

"Err…" Aragorn tried hard to hold back his grin. "But Kel, knowing Legolas, he will always drags _you_ into trouble. That's the problem."

Legolas had to roll his eyes at that. "This conversation is getting us nowhere. We are leaving now—_without_ anyone following. If I see any shadow behind us, I'll shoot first and ask questions later."

Arwen cocked her eyebrows at that. "Is that how you want us to explain to your wives when they inquire about the two of you?"

At that, the brothers had instantly fled, having not the courage to ponder upon their wives' reaction to what they were about to do. Riding blindly after a caravan was one thing, but traveling without additional reinforcement was another. Narasene and Aislinn would not be happy when they found out.

"Wait a minute. I think I saw something." Legolas suddenly stirred from his musings, his eyes staring at some point in the distance. "Is that another wagon down the road?"

On foot, they rushed towards the said wagon which lay broken on its side about five hundred yards away—hoping against hope that they would find Eldarion there. Instead, they found a half-naked body of a young woman, lying supine near a tree with a horrendous sword wound across her throat. Her attackers had slaughtered her after they had gang raped her.

Both brothers turned their eyes away from the ghastly sight, feeling deeply sorry for the girl. They could imagine the complete horror that she had gone through. Oh, yes. The brothers could perfectly imagine. They had gone through the same horror before, many years ago. Unlike the girl, they were lucky to have survived. Still, it was some experience that they would never easily forget. Not ever.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Legolas quickly walk back to the fallen wagon and cut away some of the canvas covering. He then covered the girl's body with it, silently offering a prayer for her soul. When he straightened, he saw Keldarion walking slowly around the site with intense gazes, searching for more clues and signs.

"She broke away from the main group and tried to flee, but they chased her until her carriage went off the road," Keldarion was saying, staring at the wheel marks and hoof prints on the ground. "There were several men—not more than ten, perhaps—and they dragged her here and had their way with her. She struggled to her last breath."

Legolas frowned back at the wagon, noticing that the animals pulling the entire caravan were missing. Obviously, they had also been stolen.

"She was too tiny to handle the team all by herself. I think somebody else was driving the wagon for her."

Keldarion paused and stared at his brother. "Right. But why is there only one body?"

Legolas' eyes widened at that. He swiftly scanned the ground, looking for something that his eyes might have missed earlier. Then he noticed the signs of scuffling not far from the girl's body. "There. You see those? Someone tried to help her but failed. From the look of that boot prints, there was another man. Maybe he was one of the troupe members. Her husband, perhaps?"

"She was too young to have a husband, Legolas. She was exactly Darion's age," Keldarion sorrowfully responded. "What a pity. She was very beautiful. Poor child."

Legolas ruefully shook his head. "There's nothing more we can do for her, except to bury her body with the others. I'll go find a spade."

As Keldarion went to look for a burial spot, Legolas rummaged through the broken wagon. Instead of a spade, however, he found something else.

"KEL!"

The elder prince started when he heard his brother's shout. Unsheathing his sword in one fluid motion, Keldarion ran back towards his brother, all prepared to meet any certain danger.

"Legolas! Where are you?"

"I'm right here!" came Legolas' voice from inside the wagon. "Look what I've found!"

"What is it?"

His face glowing with excitement, the younger prince emerged with a beautiful clear-crystal pendant attached to a broken silver chain wrapped around his fist.

"It's the Evenstar!" Legolas exulted, looking both worried and pleased by his discovery. "I found it between the floorboards. Kel, Darion was here!"

Keldarion took the pendant from his brother, remembering the million times he had seen it around Arwen's graceful throat. It was not a mere trinket, but a highly treasured heirloom for all descendants of Eärendil. Eldarion would never leave it behind intentionally, unless something terrible had happened to him.

"It's confirmed then; we are on the right track," said Keldarion, pocketing the pendant for safekeeping. "I had been worried that we were chasing after the wrong lead. The Evenstar has shown us that we are not far from Darion, though. If he is not here, then he is alive somewhere. We just need to follow the trail that leads out from this site."

"I think he has been taken away, probably by the group that attacked this caravan." Legolas stared hard at the ground where various signs and prints started to become more sensible to him. "Hopefully, he stays strong while facing whatever horror that comes his way. His abductors will not be gentle with him, especially if they find out that Darion is the crown prince of Gondor. Estel has lots of enemies in this land."

Keldarion placed a hand on his brother's stiff shoulder. "We'll find him alive and strong, Legolas. Darion is so like his father, too hardheaded to admit defeat."

He then gave Legolas a sheepish grin. "What am I babbling about? Darion is exactly like _you_! Always getting into foolish scrapes but too stubborn to die. Remember the thousand times you were abducted and I had to drag you home by your tail and…"

"All right, all right! I got your point! Sheesh!" Legolas gave his brother a killing glare. "Lay off my past embarrassments, will you? So tell me, what's the plan now?"

Serious again, Keldarion inclined his head towards the clearly visible hoof prints. "We only have one choice. We'll follow the trail."

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Eldarion jerked awake from his light slumber by rough hands yanking him clearly off his mount. He went tumbling down and crashed to the ground with a bone-jarring impact.

After crossing the Anduin River they had untied his bonds, except for the one on his wrists, before dumping him on top of a mare. He had problems to pull himself upright with his arms still restrained, so someone grab the back of his shirt and jerked him to his feet. He was then dragged along in a fast trot. It drained him to keep up because he was thirsty and hungry, and his legs were still wobbly after long hours of riding. But, determinedly, he tried to match his captor's step, trying not to show any sign of weakness.

His head reeling, Eldarion looked around to take in his surrounding. It was late afternoon, and they had just stopped at the bank of River Poros. The river was not as wide as Anduin, though. And there was even a sturdy wooden bridge span over it. Laden with goods and occupants, several wagons were taking turns to make their crossings. A couple of tents had been erected alongside the water, offering various kinds of products and services from expensive genuine oliphaunt tusks to a cheap and quick tupping with one of the painted ladies behind the canvas screen.

Patch-eye had his men busy unloading their stolen wares and finding the buyers. Eldarion watched wide-eyed at the scene, finding the place not much different from the common markets in Minas Tirith, with the men haggling outrageously and arguing over the value of the merchandises. The only difference was that there were no sign of honest faces around. These were all thieves and smugglers who used this location as an entreport to barter the goods in exchange of other riches. A very active black-market, indeed.

"Where the blazes are we?" Eldarion couldn't help but muttered in anxiety as he was dumped next to a fallen log near the riverbank.

"Near the Fords of Poros. Don't try to escape, boy. You won't succeed, I'll see to it!" came the terse reply. Eldarion looked up and got a full look at the man who had dragged him here. His heart fell. The man he had injured right before they crossed the River Anduin was glowering down at him.

Gulping uneasily, Eldarion forced away his fear and tried to look brave. "Oh, it's you. I should have known. What now, dumb-head? Want me to bust the other ribs too?"

In response, the man swung his arm and hit the boy squarely in his jaw, causing Eldarion's head to snap to one side. The man raised his fist again but someone roughly shoved him aside.

"Stop that, you fool! We need him whole to give us the heaviest gold!" Patch-eye snapped at his minion, his eyes glinting dangerously. Squatting in front of Eldarion, the head robber gripped the boy's jaw and stared calculatingly.

"Good. Not too much damage there. I knew someone here who will pay a costly price for those good looks and strong muscles."

Eldarion jerked his chin out of Patch-eye's hand. "I'm not for sale! I'm a pr…!"

The lad quickly bit down his lip right before he could declare that he was a prince. He knew it was not a good time to disclose his real identity. It would only bring him more harm than good.

Unaware of Eldarion's slip, Patch-eye stood, laughing gaily. "You can complain all you want, boy, but your luck is not going to change. Now where is Movrak, that useless pig?"

Shortly after, a stout looking man came near with a proud smirk on his face. "So, this is the 'goods' you've been telling me about just now?"

Patch-eye crossed his arms. He shrugged in an offhand manner. "This is it. What do you think?"

"Make the boy stand up straight. I can't see anything that can impress me."

Chuckling, Patch-eye grabbed a fistful of Eldarion's dirty hair and yanked him to his feet.

Movrak stared curiously at the rising flush of anger on the boy's ears and neck. "Nice enough face, but he is too high-spirited to my taste. I don't want to accidentally become a eunuch, you know what I mean?"

The men around him roared with laughter, much to Eldarion's puzzlement. He didn't understand the joke, and was not eager to find out what it was all about.

"Yes, I know you like them soft and yielding." Patch-eye grinned. "Still, you can break this boy's spirit in no time at all. Put him to work in your field. Give him a month, and afterwards he will gladly entertain your needs."

Eldarion was smart. He saw the way Movrak was staring at him, and he could instantly figure out that this ugly man favored boys rather than girls. Panicked, the young prince swiveled around and tried to run. Patch-eye easily caught Eldarion by the hair and yanked him back in front of Movrak.

"Come on, Movrak. Here's my offer; fifteen gold nuggets." Holding Eldarion firmly steady by the scruff of his neck, Patch-eye carried on with business.

"_Fifteen_? That's absurd!" Movrak cried out incredulously. "Are you trying to rob me here?"

"As I am a robber, I guess the answer is…" Patch-eye shrugged. "Yeah."

Movrak grinned in spite of the high price. "I can see that you are. But are you sure he is strong?"

"Definitely. He broke Rodem's ribs two days ago. You can see that this stupid peon of mine is still wincing every time he talks."

As the two men laughed, Rodem glared at Eldarion, blaming the boy for his current humiliation. Eldarion returned the glare with equal hatred while the bargaining continued on.

"Nah. I'll give you five nuggets. Fifteen is too high, only fit for a prince," Movrak was saying, causing Eldarion's heart to jump.

_You don't know how very correct you are, Movrak_, the boy dryly thought.

"You are sucking my blood dry here, Movrak." Patch-eye shook his head. "Twelve nuggets. That's my last offer."

"Take off his shirt. After I see what I need to see, then I'll consider," Movrak ordered.

Noting Eldarion's intention to struggle, Patch-eye clouted the back of the boy's head. Rendered too senseless to even speak by the blow, Eldarion couldn't escape the hands that began to tear the threadbare tunic off his body. Held upright between Rodem and Patch-eye, Eldarion silently suffered Movrak's careful scrutiny of his naked torso.

"Nice. Very nice," Movrak murmured, touching the prince's lean, muscle-toned chest. "What did you say he was just now?"

"A carnival performer, or maybe one of the troupe's technicians." Patch-eye cocked his head to one side. "He doesn't look much like a performer, does he?"

"Nope. More like a young knight." Movrak nodded. "Look at his arms. He is used to lifting swords and spears, I gather. Eight nuggets."

"Strong enough to lift other kind of tools for you after this, Movrak. Ten nuggets!"

"Done! Ten nuggets it is!"

With increasing horror, Eldarion watched the two men shake hands at the final arrangement. Movrak carefully counted the gold nuggets in his purse before passing them over. Then the two marauders left without even a backward glance at the boy.

Eldarion was shaking, both in fear and fury. He couldn't believe that it was all over. He couldn't believe that he had become someone else's chattel, a property to be sold and bought so easily. He, a noble-born prince, had become a slave.

Two burly looking men had come near at Movrak's signal. They grabbed Eldarion by the arms and dragged him off to follow the stout 'merchant'.

"Where are we going?" Eldarion cried out, planting his feet stubbornly as he resisted to be taken along. "Where are you taking me?"

Movrak paused and turned. "Why, we are going home, of course."

"_Where_, blast you!"

The man gave the boy a calm smile. "Into the desert—in Haradwaith."

_Haradwaith_

Eldarion nearly fainted to hear that. "No…"

Movrak clucked his tongue when he saw the boy slumped to his knees, turning incredibly pale. "Poor child. Give him something to drink and eat. And then lock him in one of the wagons. I don't want a corpse in my hand when we get home."

Movrak's two hirelings effortlessly picked up the half-conscious boy and carried him swiftly to Movrak's caravan.

Staring numbly at the blue sky above, Eldarion felt something wet trickle down his cheeks. He was dismayed to realize that he was crying.

_Forgive me, father, for I've done you great wrong. I was so stupid! Oh, mother, what am I going to do?_

**_TBC…_**


	6. 6

**Leralonde**** Sometimes _adults_ also do not know what's best for them until it's to late! Take me for one! **

**Yami**** Tai :**** No, this Harad had nothing to do with 'Trouble in Telcontar'…I think.**

**Karriya**** Good luck on your mid-years! (and hit the cinemas for KOH afterwards). Yep. Tupping is a dirty work. He he he**

**Beginning-end-314 :**** I got Legolas from an auction. If you want him, then show me the money! (gives a good imitation of Tom Cruise in 'Jerry Macguire').**

**Rutu**** 'Tupping' is equivalent to…err… 'rolling in the hay'. And as for Darion panicking when he realized Movrak prefers boys, that's because he also knew what the man likes to do _with_ them. This chapter will explain it a little better. Beware of a tense scene at the bottom of this page. And go ahead, mate. You have my full blessings to use my OCs for your school projects! (p/s : Did you brush your teeth before reading this:)**

**Keluin**** Lossehilin**** You are gonna see Orli on Monday? _In person_? (faints dead away from envy...)**

**Szhismine**** Darion's girlfriend, eh? How did you know that? Did you hack into my PC or something?**

**Seylin**** You got new PC! What brand? (Mine is a HP flat screen with too many gadgets that I'm not even aware of! Ha ha ha!)**

**Jubisaurus**** Yes, she is…I mean, _was_.**

**Astalder27**** The 'circle' is going around and around and…**

**Delano**** Movrak is gonna get creepier in this one.**

**Kalayna**** I thought it was already obvious. Leggy and Kel are the densest brothers ever exist! LOL!**

**Dolphingurl678**** I hope this tale of the South and the Haradrim won't disappoint you, mellon.**

**A NuEvil**** In search of what, I wonder? A couple of walkie-talkies to give to Leggy and Darion, maybe? I can just imagine the conversation. (Darion: Request for rescue! A crazy Harad merchant is keeping me captive in his caravan/ Leggy : Roger that. Help is on the way in fifteen minutes.)**

**Bessie1 **** Aw…you just make me blush with your kind words. Thank you. I promise to try my very best to please you more.**

**JoeAteMuffin**** Have fun at work? Are you kidding me? The only fun I get while on the job is driving my boss crazy with my constant demands for a raise! **

**NOTE**** As there is too few information on Haradwaith, it's hard for me to imagine what the land in the South really look like. If any of my descriptions in this chapter is inaccurate as compares to Tolkien's, please keep in mind that it is fully intentional.**

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The desert of Harad was unbearably hot that day.

Eldarion sighed in discomfort as sweat poured out from every pore of his body, almost drenching him in its release. Lying down on the sand with his back against the wagon wheel, he closed his eyes and tried to drift off. It was a moot effort, though. The temperature was so high that it was impossible for him to fall asleep.

He shifted restlessly, trying to find any comfortable position that the shackles on his wrists and legs would permit. He truly hated them, these shackles. They were like a reminder to him of his pitiful situation—a slave bound for Haradwaith, the land of his father's once greatest enemies…or maybe still.

The prince cursed out loud when the afternoon wind blew some sand onto his face and into his eyes, blinding him for several moments. Blinking out tears to clear his vision, he pushed himself to a sitting position, giving up any notion of going to sleep in this intolerable heat.

Eldarion wearily leaned his head back and watched the activity—or rather, the inactivity—surrounding the temporary camp. At least, he could be thankful that he was sitting under the shadows of the wagon. The other recently bought slaves in Movrak's caravan had to sleep in a cluster right in the open without a shade of any kind to shield them from the cruel beating of the sun. Still, unlike Eldarion, they had no trouble sleeping like the dead, as if they were used to such dreadful arrangements.

Movrak's burly hirelings took turns to guard the small camp as their master slept soundly in his tent, waiting for nightfall to continue the journey deep into Haradwaith. Like most travelers in the desert, the Haradrims chose to move during the night to escape the burning sun during the day. It was much colder at night which helped conserved their water supply—not that Movrak was generous with it. He rarely glanced at the slaves, let alone took notice of their thirst and discomfort. The man didn't really care whether they were still breathing or not, thinking of them as his property that had no soul or feelings.

However, the Harad merchant gave extra attention to Eldarion, making sure that the boy was given sufficient food and water. Instead of walking the long miles with the rest of the slaves, the prince was kept within the confine of the wagon, locked and guarded. They only let him out during the day to sleep on the ground because the sturdy box of the wagon was like an oven especially at noon—so hot it was close to baking.

Eldarion was glad that he didn't suffer like the other slaves even though he chafed at his captivity, wearing the same shackles as theirs. He repeatedly told himself that he would not fully submit to this doomed fate. Every so often, he would closely look for any means to escape. So far, he had found none. Movrak might treat him a trifle special, but the merchant's hirelings watched over the boy constantly like the citadel's guardsmen back in Minas Tirith, giving the prince an odd feeling of déjà vu.

Even if he found a way to escape from the caravan, Eldarion was not sure he would survive the desert, though. When he had first seen the Harad desert, he had gone utterly speechless. Never had he seen anything so vast and so empty. Sand dunes were the only things that surrounded them, except for an occasional trees and brambles. Eldarion's only sight of wonder was the intense heat waves, blurring his vision of the horizon leagues and leagues ahead. But, during the night, the desert turned into something incredibly magnificent with its wondrous display of million of stars upon its pitch black sky. He even recognized the star of Eärendil among them, which had become a substitute to his mother's Evenstar pendant that he had lost somewhere during the raid a week ago.

Thinking of his mother, Eldarion felt the wild urge to break down and weep like a babe, highly regretting his decision to run away from the safest place on earth he had called home. Not only had he jeopardized his own life and freedom with his stupid choice, he had also caused his family not a small amount of grief and worry.

He truly wished that he could turn back the time, back to the day when the carnival troupe had arrived in Minas Tirith. He could have put his foot down and refused Enelya's demands to see the performers. He could have asked other people to escort his sisters in his stead. If he had not attended the carnival, he would never have laid eyes on lovely Nisha, one of the troupe's acrobat girls. He would not have fallen in love, his father would not have become so displeased that he spanked his only son, Nisha would still be alive, and he would not have become someone else's slave!

Oh, he could only wish…

"Nisha…"

Eldarion's voice came out in a harsh whisper, his tears falling in silent drops. It sounded hard to believe, but Nisha had become the center of his heart even when he had only known her not more than a month. Many might take it as adolescence's silly crush, but Eldarion knew that his feelings for her exceeded more than that. She even felt the same for him. He could see it clearly in her eyes every time they secretly met in one secluded spot after another.

Nisha had never been inside a citadel before. So, on that fateful day, Eldarion had tried to steal her in through the back entrance. In doing so, they needed to walk past the royal stable, and Nisha was instantly awed by the sight of the king's powerful mounts for she had big love for horses. Ever eager to please, the young prince had led her deeper into the stable to see the animals much closer, thanking the stars that the stable hands were off somewhere having their meal. As he watched her lovingly rubbed one stallion's neck with such a look of intense joy on her face, Eldarion had suddenly felt a strange stirring in his heart. As if pulled by a string, he had leaned over and cupped her rosy cheeks before he tenderly kissed her. She had been a little startled at first, but then she leaned fully onto him and wrapped her slender arms around his neck.

One thing led to another, until the king of Gondor himself came down into the stable…and stumbled upon the two lovebirds in quite a compromising position. Then all hell just broke loose.

A sob broke forth from Eldarion's lips. He bunched his fists and pressed it against his mouth to stifle the sound before somebody else could hear it. But what he remembered next gave him all the more reason to bawl uncontrollably.

"I hate you," he had told his father after the spanking. He had seen how those words deeply hurt the king, yet he was too angry to take them back and apologize. Instead, he had rushed to Nisha and told her his plan to run away from home. The girl had been tearful, telling him again and again that he was being rash and irrational. Adamant as he was, Eldarion somehow managed to convince Brass and Madam Marna, the carnival owners, to take him along with them in their journey to the next town. He had even persuaded them to leave earlier than schedule before his family could figure out what he was up to.

And so, two days later, he had left the high walls of Minas Tirith, garbed as a jester. Instead of heading for Rohan like their former routine, the carnival rode south towards the port of Pelargir where Eldarion was sure his father would not find him.

He got just what he wished for.

Because of him, the carnival troupe had taken a road that they were not familiar with. Because of him, they had been attacked by a pack of vicious marauders and Nisha was killed. He could still hear her screaming when those men assaulted her. He could still recall the look of terror on her face when she knew she was beyond help.

It all had happened because of him.

Eldarion took several deep breaths and tried to regain his composure, unaware that someone was watching his every move.

"Why so sad, my dear boy?"

Startled by the sudden voice, the young prince whirled around and found Movrak staring down at him with raised eyebrows, looking mildly intrigued.

Eldarion went red with shame. He hastily wiped away his tears and barked, "None of your affair! Leave me be!"

The older man chuckled at the boy's outburst. He squatted near Eldarion, who slightly pulled back in anxiety.

"I am just trying to be nice to you, boy. Don't need to bite me."

As was the Haradrim custom, the men wore a turban around their head and used the long tail end to cover the lower part of their face, in protection from the harsh wind and flying gritty sand of the desert. Movrak's turban was scarlet in color, with a huge diamond brooch pinned in the middle.

As Eldarion watched him warily, the man pulled down the scarf from around his face and gave the boy a shrewd grin. He lifted his hand, showing the boy a water skin he had carried from his tent.

"You thirsty? Here's some water," the man offered.

Eldarion hesitated. He was indeed very thirsty even though they had given him a drink not two hours ago. Swallowing, he realized how parched his throat was, as if it was filled with cotton. He had been sweating a lot all day, and the hot sun had sucked him almost dry. Without further invitation, he snatched the water skin out of Movrak's grip and chugged down greedily.

Movrak stared in fascination at the bobbing of Eldarion's Adam's apple as the boy drank. "So, are you going to tell me your name?"

Eldarion froze, seeing the strange look Movrak was giving him. He slowly lowered the water skin. "No, I am not."

"What do I call you, then?"

"Whatever you see fit, you pompous ass, I don't even care. And I will not answer to it!"

The merchant didn't look at all pleased by the boy's curt response. "Is this how you pay my generosity? By being rude to me?"

"You call this generosity?" Eldarion glanced briefly at the water skin and hurled it away in disgust, smack into Movrak's face.

"Be damned your generosity!" the prince fumed. "You chain me like an animal and take away my freedom, and now you want me to be nice to you? Well, think again, old man!"

Flushing slightly, Movrak wiped the dripping water off his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He stared hard at the trembling youth in front of him with his small, beady eyes. "Be like that all you want, boy. In time, you will submit to me."

"Never!" Eldarion spat back.

"Oh, we'll see about that, my dear. We will see." Movrak just grinned. He suddenly reached up and cupped the back of Eldarion's neck, jerking the boy's face closer for a kiss.

Eldarion instantaneously reacted. He raised his balled fists and smashed them against Movrak's puckered lips. Then, leaning further backward, he kneed the merchant neatly in the groin, causing the stout man to howl out loud.

"Guards!" Movrak screamed. His face was contorted from the pain as he cupped his bruised anatomy. Four of his hirelings instantly came rushing at his call.

"Take this uncouth heathen and give him twenty lashes for his insolence!" Movrak animatedly cried out the order, spewing out spittle everywhere. "After you finish, chain him with the other slaves and let him walk all the way back to Harodem. Then he'll know the true meaning of _generosity_."

His heart still beating rapidly, Eldarion didn't resist much when the men dragged him away. Several yards from the camp, they all stopped and someone pushed him face down on to the hot sand. Two men held his wrists and ankles, stretching his lean frame to a limit until he couldn't even move.

The camp was stirring back to live. Awakened by the sudden commotion, the group of slaves sat upright, blinking sleep from their eyes as they witnessed Eldarion's predicament. Everyone was quiet, though. No one dared come forward to assist the young prince for fear of receiving the same punishment.

"Hold him steady, mate," the man holding a long leather strip said lazily, as if bored by the entire process. And then came an eerie whooshing sound, followed by a loud crack.

Eldarion quickly lost count after ten lashes.

**TBC…**


	7. 7

**Legosgurl**** I'll tell Darion to grab…and _twist_! Yeoww! That hurts! (Yes, I believe that it works too!)**

**Keluin**** Lossehilin**** So, how did the meeting with Orli go? Come on! Tell me! And I can't wait to see the pics!**

**Karriya**** Maybe you've already known this, but the May issue of FIRST magazine has Orli on the cover. I've just bought one for myself!**

**Rutu**** I deliberately use Asian names on some of my characters 'cause I want to feel a bit closer to home. Heck, I'm even thinking of using my own _real_ name for a character in the next fic! LOL!**

**Viggomaniac**** I'm very glad you've discovered me. Take you time reading through the series. I'm not going anywhere, I promise.**

**Leralonde**** Eldarion is Aragorn's son, and you wonder where the boy gets his rebelliousness from? You're kidding, right? **

**Szhismine**** Ha ha ha ha ha ha! You got me laughing like crazy there! (Our planet earth and Middle-earth are quite similar in some way, aren't they? Just look at the variety of societies they have.)**

**JoeAteMuffin******** My badgering my boss proves fruitful. I just got a 10 raise! Yippee!**

**Delano **** The brothers haven't died yet, but they _might_. I've prepared something evil for them. (Crackles evil laughter…)**

**Sailor Elf :**** Part of this story is going into the direction that you thought it is going. But, I assure you, it would not end the way you thought it will. **

**Seylin**** You might find out that one of your wishes will come true. Brace yourself. It's coming soon, but not in this chapter though.**

**Tbiris**** Leggy and Kel are still quite far, enough time for Darion to suffer like his Da once.**

**Trista**** Yeah. I noticed that too. But I think the ffnet have put it all back to order.**

**WARNING :**** A terrible, horrible cliffie up ahead! I repeat; a terrible, horrible cliffie up ahead! Prepare your parachute, guys! Feel free to jump if you think you can't hang on to that cliff any longer!**

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"It's them," Keldarion said shortly. His cobalt blue eyes were sharp and intense as he gazed at the campsite at the bottom of the valley.

Leaning against the boulder next to his brother, Legolas cocked an eyebrow. "You are perfectly sure?"

"Positively sure. I can guarantee that it's their horse tracks we've been following these few days. No other people would roughshod their mounts in this dry weather."

The elder elf then pulled away to sit down on the hard ground. He rummaged through his pack and took out a whetstone. Before long, he was sharpening his beloved sword in smooth methodical strokes.

Sending another glance at the human camp below them, Legolas went to join his brother. "I can't see Darion anywhere. I wonder where they're hiding him."

"Maybe they lock him in that lone wagon they brought along with them," Keldarion replied with a shrug. "We shall see if that's the case when we attack them tonight."

"Tonight? Why not right about _now_?" Legolas hissed his disagreement.

"That's because the sun is about to set behind us. Those humans down there would see us the moment we came charging down the hill. We would loose a fair amount of surprise that way. Besides, we see better in the dark than they do."

"I hate it when you are right," the younger prince grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. "What do you suggest we do in the mean time, then? Twiddle our thumbs?"

"You are always so impatient, brat." Keldarion chuckled. "Do me a favor and check the fledging on your arrows. I don't want your shots to go awry and hit me by mistake!"

Legolas gave his brother a dirty look, even though he knew his brother was only teasing him. A legend with his bow, the lord of Ithilien _never_ missed his shots, let alone wrongly hit a target.

With jerky movements, Legolas released the leather straps of his quiver and yanked it off his back before he went through his supply of arrows, muttering hotly to himself all the while. Keldarion just grinned, pleased that his simple gibe had so riled his brother. That would keep Legolas mad enough for the coming battle. A furious Legolas was equaled to the strength of five humans, something to even them up with the group of bandits below which consisted of nine big nasty men.

They had almost lost track of the robbers at the River Anduin. But after a long conversation with the boat master at the small dock—and after bribing him with a few shillings to make him open his mouth—the brothers managed to dig out some details from him.

"They didn't pay me a single cent!" the man had complained, waving his arms angrily about. "They even threatened to jab their blades up my arse if I refused to take them across, the ungrateful lot! I swear I'll sink the raft the next time they show their butts around here!"

The man had kept rambling on and on about what he wished to do with the bandits that it took the brothers several more try to get the man talking about Eldarion.

"A boy? Yes, there was a boy. They got him all tied up like a stuffed turkey!"

"And you didn't even help him?" Naturally, Legolas had gotten very angry when he heard that.

"_Help_ him?" The man scoffed. "I can't even help myself, mister. I have my own sorry butt to consider. I won't simply put my bloody head on the bloody chopping block for a bloody stupid kid!"

Legolas would have pummeled the man to a bloody pulp if Keldarion had not pulled him away. Then, after Legolas had threatened to shoot his ear off, the boat master had frantically taken them across the River Anduin—with Legolas aiming his arrow at the man's head the entire way.

Arriving at the south bank, the brothers had rediscovered their quarry's tracks, much to their great relief. After a hard day's ride, they had found that the track led them to the River Poros. At Keldarion's insistence, both elven princes had masqueraded themselves as a couple of Haradrim mercenaries. Even though Legolas complained the entire time about the confining attire—most especially the heavy turban atop his head—the disguise had helped them gather some quick information about their quarry from the black-marketers doing business near the bridge.

After another long day of tracking, they had come to this overhanging rock which looked over a narrow valley between two hills. The elves were now waiting for the men below to let down their guard before launching a swift attack—and taking Eldarion out of their clutch.

Sighing for the umpteenth time, Legolas slipped his fingers up his turban and scratched like mad at his scalp, right behind his ear. "This blasted thing itches!"

Keldarion paused with an arched eyebrow. Looking mildly exasperated, he shook his head at his brother. "Really, Legolas, your complaining is driving me crazy."

"Yes, well, this stupid turban is driving _me_ insane! I think I'm getting bald here," the younger prince grumbled in response. Then, with a suppressed growl, he yanked the entire bundle off his head and slammed it to the ground.

"There. Now I can breathe again," he said in grim satisfaction, running his hands through his long golden hair to comb it back to order.

Keldarion rolled his eyes. "Do you know how long it took me to fashion that thing for you?"

Legolas gave his brother a droll look. "Do I look like I care?"

Fixing his brother a gimlet stare, Keldarion then snatched the discarded turban and threw it at Legolas' head. "Brat."

Legolas just grinned. "Blockhead."

"Silly imp."

"Uptight brute."

"Pretty face dimwit."

"Filthy swine."

"Yellow-haired sissy."

"Pockmarked-bum idiot."

And the volley of insults continued on, back and forth, as the sun slowly sank behind them.

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Rodem rolled over restlessly on his blanket. He had trouble sleeping that night. His bruised ribs were still a big bother, keeping him wide awake with their constant jabbing pains. The rough and hard ground he was lying on was not helping any, which caused him to crave for a soft, comfortable bed where he can disappear into and sleep for the whole year.

He cursed loudly when loose stones poked at his injured ribs. Admitting defeat, he reluctantly rose from his pallet. Yawning widely, Rodem looked around the camp with half-lidded eyes, noticing in distaste that his mates were all zonked out under their own blankets.

Muttering in disgust, Rodem grabbed his cloak and walked towards the wagon they had purchased at Poros. Filled with loots and treasures, the wagon barely left a space for sitting, but there were also several bundles of fabric that he could improvise as a comfortable bed.

Rodem was about to unlatch the wagon doors when someone spoke, "What are you doing there, you knave?"

He froze. Turning around, he saw his one-eyed chief watch him warily. "I had trouble sleeping on the ground tonight. My ribs are killing me. I thought of sleeping in here."

Patch-eye visibly relaxed at that.

"Oh, your poor wee ribs," he said mockingly. "That boy really kicked your ass there, didn't he? Really, Rodem. You are an embarrassment to the company. Go ahead, man, sleep in that junk. Just don't think of slipping anything in there into your own pocket, or I'll cut off your hands myself."

With an amused snort, Patch-eye settled back onto his pallet and closed his eyes. Rodem made a face at the other man's back and climbed aboard the wagon. He pushed aside a few boxes and packs before unrolling several bolts of fabrics. Sighing in content, he lay down on his crude mattress—squeezed between two cases filled with stolen armors and weaponry—and finally drifted off to sleep.

Unfortunately, a sudden commotion from outside jerked him back awake not long after.

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The elven brothers came down upon the camp like a whirlwind of fury.

Leaving their mounts behind, they moved as stealthily as shadows down the hill, and started attacking without any warning. The men's horses, however, quickly sent out cries of panic to their masters when they caught the scent of the two intruders.

Legolas' hands were lightning fast on his bow and arrows, shooting randomly at the stirring men until Keldarion loudly protested, "Will you stop showing off and leave _something_ for me!"

Grinning, Legolas lowered his bow and stepped aside to give his brother the center stage. "It's all yours, big brother."

Muttering to himself, Keldarion rushed headlong into the camp and swung his great blade, knocking away a man's sword before lashing at the other. Panicked by the surprise attack, all the men had scrambled to their feet and grabbed any weapons they could reach to return the assault, but the brothers were too fast for them. In just a short while, six corpses already littered the ground while the still standing men tried very hard to escape the mad elves.

"Keep one alive for questioning!" Keldarion yelled to his brother.

Legolas nodded and slung his bow over one shoulder. He then yanked out his twin blades to charge at the man wearing the eye-patch. Patch-eye desperately swung his sword to defend himself, not knowing why they were being brazenly assailed.

Following the man's every move, Legolas pushed the man harder and harder, taking absolute pleasure from the fight to release the anger out of his entire system. The man was a very exceptional swordsman himself, but was no match to Legolas' skill. The elf toyed with the man to weaken him, barely aware that his older brother was doing the same thing to his own opponent on the west side of the camp.

Patch-eye was horrified when a slash from Legolas' blade cut through the vein on his wrist, making him drop his sword. The elf kicked the blade away and smashed his elbow into the man's face. Patch-eye fell like a rock to the ground, his features contorting with pain. Smiling grimly, Legolas pressed one knee against the man's chest, hard.

"Where is he?"

The man blinked in confusion. "Wh…who?"

Legolas pressed harder. "The boy! The one that you've taken from the caravan troupe. Now where is he?"

Patch-eye was mystified. _Why are these elves looking for that stupid boy?_

"I don't know what you're talking ab…Ah!" The man cried out when Legolas smacked him in the nose with the butt of his blade.

"Don't even think of lying to me, you miserable cur! Now tell me where you hide him and what you've done to him or I'll cut off your ears and make you chew on them!" Legolas' face was so red with fury he looked almost purple.

"Yes! Yes! There's a boy! But we didn't harm him, I swear!" the man frantically cried out as Legolas began sawing at his left ear.

Keldarion, meanwhile, was staring in disgust at his erstwhile opponent lying at his feet. The man had stumbled during their skirmish and fallen flat onto his dead friend's upraised blade, impaling him right through the neck. With a shrug, Keldarion stepped over the body and glared down at Patch-eye.

"Do you keep the boy in the wagon?" he asked the man in Westron.

Patch-eye's face instantly lit up. "Yes. The…the wagon. We hid him there. He's fine. Go check him yourself."

Something in the man's voice didn't sit right with Legolas, but he didn't know what it was. As Keldarion strode towards the wagon, however, the younger prince saw a strange gleam in the man's lone eye.

Legolas' senses instantly screamed great danger.

"KEL, NO!"

About to unlatch the wagon doors, Keldarion whirled around at his brother's yell. At that same moment, a man burst through from inside with a deadly loaded crossbow in his arms.

The elder prince fell heavily to the ground upon impact, a long dart imbedded in his chest.

**TBC…**

**Okay, everyone. Scream. Yes, that's it. Scream as loud as you can.**


	8. 8

**Rutu**** I promise to stick to my promise. LOL!**

**Tbiris**** Yep. Now it's Kel's turn.**

**Leralonde**** Nakey Lagey? Err…I'll try _not_ to disappoint you. (hint, hint)**

**Keluin**** Lossehilin**** Your first cliffie, eh? Good for you! I'll go and read it after this. (Too bad you couldn't see Orli much, but at least you were somewhere among the screaming crowd. I would kill to be where you were!)**

**A NuEvil**** Did you have a nice landing after that jump?**

**Karriya**** You're just 12? Wow! You sound like 21 to me! Believe me, that's a compliment. I don't know how it works in your country but in _our_ cinemas, the 'doing-it' scenes in KOH are simply not there! Darn! (droll – amusing, comic, witty). **

**Ceyxa**** Why, thank you. I got the idea for the dialogues from watching how my three brothers behave.**

**YamiTai**** Both brothers will have their share of torture, don't worry.**

**Elemmr**** Hmm. You're right. Maybe I _should_ kick the habit. But how? Oh, I know! I'll go the cliffie-holic meeting tonight! (Hello, I'm Adromir. I'm a cliffie-holic. Please help me stop.) He he he…**

**JoeAteMuffin**** To tell you the truth, I rarely insult or curse at anyone. I restrain myself, no matter how badly I want to do it. But I always let it out on paper. Really, you should see my diary! **

**Delano**** You may breathe again, mellon. That's it. In, out. In, out. Feel better now?**

**Theo darkstar**** Legolas has such a volatile temper because he always wakes up on the wrong side of the bed in the morning. LOL!**

**Seylin**** He will come, dear. He will come.**

**Deana**** Hey, you okay, mate?**

**Szhismine**** WTFgfhxvzmkhtye! Ha ha ha! (laughs until she falls off the chair). Keep on being that way, my friend, and I won't be able to finish this story. Your review keeps me giggling the entire time. I love the reaction!**

**Astalder27**** But someone has to die, mate. I _need_ to kill someone. Oh, right. I just killed the villains!**

**Really, it's so nice to hear you all screamed! As I've told my beta, I think I got more death threats than any other authors after I posted that bloody chapter! LOL! **

**And guess what? I've seen KOH! _Twice_! Trust me, it's a lot better than Troy and Alexander. Orli? Oh, my. He _is_ Balian, no doubt about it! (Wait for the scene where he has to fight four knights at the same time, unarmed. You can't take your eyes away from the screen even for a second. Remarkable!)**

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Legolas instantly went berserk when he saw his brother fall. With a mighty growl of outrage, he slammed Patch-eye's head to the ground and leapt to his feet, running madly towards the man clutching the crossbow.

Seeing the murderous look on the elf's fair face, Rodem fumbled with his weapon and aimed it in position. But Legolas was already upon him in lightning speed, unmercifully lashing his twin blades across the man's throat.

Warm blood splattered everywhere, hitting Legolas' reddened face. Without turning a hair, he watched the man's head topple off its severed neck and hit the ground with a slight bounce, followed by the rest of his decapitated body. Ignoring the spasmodic twitches of his victim's corpse, Legolas quickly knelt next to Keldarion's supine from.

"Kel! Oh, Valar…" He frantically inspected his brother's wound. "How badly are you hurt? Kel, can you hear me?"

Numb with pain and shock, Keldarion's eyes were glazed as he stared up at Legolas' alarmed expression. But then, a movement behind his brother jerked him back to awareness. Without as much as a warning to Legolas, Keldarion raised his arm and flung the sword in his grip with all that his strength would allow.

The long beautiful blade flew in one powerful arch over Legolas' shoulder to bury itself smack in Patch-eye's abdomen. Obviously, the one-eyed man had taken Legolas' preoccupation to rise and attack the elf from behind with a dagger. Astonished, the man dropped his blade. He looked down, dazedly, at the hilt protruding from his belly, mere seconds before he toppled sideways into the dirt.

Legolas had swiveled around at Keldarion's sudden action, and was now blinking a little stupidly at the man's still body. Assured that Patch-eye gave them no more threat, he turned back to his elder brother.

"Uh…thank you."

"You're…welcome." Keldarion tried to grin, which came out more in a grimace. He gestured to the arrow in his chest. "I guess I've…made a mistake."

"Right. A bloody friggin' stupid mistake!" Legolas' temper flared once more as he glowered at the arrow. "What were you thinking, Kel? How could you be so careless? You're lucky you were not hit in the throat! Or, Valar forbid, your _empty_ brain!"

"You're right. I was…careless, but…"

"That was the dumbest and stupidest move I've ever seen from you!" Legolas still couldn't stop scolding his brother. His hands were gentle but efficient as he parted the front of his brother's shirt so that he could inspect the wound better. "Look at this! It misses your heart but it gets your lung instead! Now how in the world am I going to get that arrowhead out of you, you dumb blockhead!"

Keldarion rolled his eyes. He didn't take offense at Legolas' harsh words because he knew his brother had spoken out of fear for him. Legolas looked so scared that his hands shook and his eyes were wild with panic.

"Legolas, listen…"

"Oh, shut up, all right! Just shut up and let me think!" The younger prince promptly closed his eyes and worked to clear his head, waiting for his heart to recede its fast throbbing, while at the same time he repeatedly asked himself how he had let a simple ambush go so terribly awry.

"Legolas?"

"_WHAT!_" Legolas' eyes flew open as he shouted back in reply. Not feeling any better, he gave Keldarion a killing glare.

"I'm not dead yet, you know," the elder prince said softly with a slight smile.

Legolas opened his mouth to spew another round of scolding and swearing, but then he saw the glimmer of agony in his brother's eyes. Immediately contrite, he crouched protectively over Keldarion and kissed his brow.

"Forgive me, Kel. I…I guess I overreacted."

"That's…an understatement. You completely…lost your marbles. See? There goes…another one." Keldarion feebly chuckled, clutching at his injured chest.

Legolas scowled at his brother's pitiful attempt at humor. "Will you be serious for a second? I'm trying to figure out what to do with you here."

"Leave me."

Legolas' mouth dropped open. "_What_ did you say!"

Wincing, Keldarion began to explain, "What I mean was…go check on that one-eyed man over there. I think he's…still breathing."

That earned him a funny look from his younger brother.

"What the blazes for?" Legolas dubiously asked. "And aren't you _supposed_ to kill him?"

Even the level-headed Keldarion lost his temper at this. "Just do as I say, you stubborn nitwit! Ask him where Darion is! That's the reason why I didn't hit to kill. I want to keep him alive long enough to tell us what we want to know!"

"Oh." Legolas blinked. He had the grace to look abashed as Keldarion groaned audibly after that sudden outburst.

"I'm sorry, Kel. I wasn't using my head there."

Keldarion shrugged, and groaned again. "You and me both, brother. We are a couple of pathetic airheads today. Never mind, though. Go rouse that man…and start questioning him. I think…he knows where Darion is."

"But what about you? The arrow…"

The elder prince softly chuckled, a slight wheezing sound coming from his injured lung. "I'm not going anywhere, and neither is this bloody arrow. Trust me, Legolas, I'm not ready…to expire yet."

"Well, if you say so…"

Still reluctant, Legolas left his brother's side and leant over the man's limp body, his twin daggers at the ready. The man had his eyes closed but the elf could see that he was indeed still alive, his chest rising up and down with his weak breathing.

"Come on, you ugly creature, wake up." Legolas poked at the man's wounded belly with the butt of his dagger.

Patch-eye moaned and writhed in agony, but his eyes remained closed. Legolas shook him repeatedly, but still he didn't receive the desired result. Sighing, he glanced helplessly at his brother who was struggling to sit upright against the wagon wheel, looking extremely pale and shaken.

When Legolas made a move to help him, Keldarion waved him away. "I…I can manage. Keep trying with that bastard."

Assured that his brother was fine by himself, Legolas turned back to the unconscious robber. He wondered what to do next to rouse the man and make him talk. The elf didn't look too happy when he finally came to a decision.

"All right, then. I hope this works."

Grimacing, he tenderly stroked the man's cheek, crooning in a weird falsetto voice, "Wake up, sweetheart. Come on, dearie, wake up. How about a quick tumble in the bed with me, eh, sugar plum?"

Legolas heard Keldarion's snort of laughter, followed by a low moan and a long string of cursing. Ignoring his brother, he resumed his effort by tickling the man under his chin. "Come on, sleepy head. Open your eyes now. We are going to have lots of fun, darling."

Patch-eye emitted a silly grin, but that was all. He was still out cold.

Legolas quickly lost patience. He dropped his falsetto and started slapping at the man's face. "Wake up, you filthy human mongrel! Wake up now or I'll cut off your balls and crush them between your teeth!"

When that also didn't work, Legolas grabbed the hilt of his brother's sword and yanked it out of Patch-eye's belly in one fluid move. The man instantly jerked upright and howled like a banshee. Hugging his bleeding stomach, Patch-eye rolled himself into a ball and convulsed into uncontrollable whimpers.

With a satisfied grunt, Legolas seized a fistful of the man's hair and jerked his face upright. Patch-eye stared back at the elf with great fear in his lone eye.

"Awake now, eh? Good. Let's continue with our previous conversation, shall we?" Legolas remarked, tightening his grip as the man tried to break free. "Listen to me, you piece of waste. Answer all my questions and I'll let you keep your balls. Again, I ask you; Where. Is. The boy?"

Patch-eye was wincing between glares as he struggled to answer, "I told you, he…he's in the…w…wagon."

Legolas' expression darkened. "Nope. Wrong answer."

As fast as eyes could follow, the elf viciously swiped down his blade.

Patch-eye hollered when tremendous pain exploded between his legs. Cupping his bleeding lower region, the man tried to scramble away but the elf didn't even let him.

"Now you know I mean business?" Legolas gave the man a sinister smile. "All right. Where were we? Ah, right, the wagon. That was a very nice trick, pal, deceiving us like that. But I'm not impressed! You're lucky my brother is not dead or I would have gladly shoved my blade up your…!"

"Legolas."

He went still at his brother's soft voice. Looking up, he saw Keldarion gazing back at him a little worriedly.

"Yes, Kel?"

"I think he gets your point now," Keldarion said, giving his brother a small, tight smile. He knew Legolas was never cruel, not even to his own worst enemy. But great fury and deep fear combined had triggered such a reaction from his younger brother, which might have gotten out of hand if Keldarion had not interfered.

Legolas faltered, looking a bit sheepish. He turned back to the man and repeated his question, his voice a lot calmer this time. "I'm going to ask you one more time, human. Where is the boy?"

Sobbing and cursing alternately, Patch-eye replied, "We…we've sold him…"

Legolas' eyes widened. "_Sold_ him? Where?"

"The b…bridge…at Poros…"

"You sold him at the black market?" Legolas grabbed the man by his shirtfront and jerked him closer until their faces were just inches away. "To _whom_!"

"M…Mov…rak…"

With that one word, the man's eye grew distant and he went completely still, no longer breathing.

Legolas was far from pleased. "Movrak? Who in Arda is Movrak? Hey! Wake up, man! I'm not finished talking to you!"

"Um…Legolas, I think he's already dead," Keldarion quietly stated, slightly amused to see the annoyed look on his brother's face.

"But he can't die! Not just yet!" Legolas growled his displeasure, dumping the man's body back to the ground. "I'm not finish questioning him. We still don't know who this Movrak is."

"Actually, I do."

Incredulous, Legolas stared wide-eyed at his brother. "You _do_?"

Keldarion shrugged, and broke into another round of wincing and groaning. "Almost everyone in Haradwaith knows who Movrak is," he explained through gritted teeth, pressing harder against his wound to staunch the bleeding. "He is a merchant, a mine owner, a slaver. Anything, you name it. That man is one of the most…industrialists Haradrim ever known."

"_Industrialist_?" Legolas was still a little awed that his brother somehow knew about this man.

"That…he is. One of the…richest men in the South." Keldarion's breathing started to grow labored. "He has this…fortress in Harodem, Haradwaith's biggest city. I've…I've been there."

"You've _been_ there?"

Realizing that his mouth was gaping open, Legolas quickly snapped it back shut. He then remembered that Keldarion had once lived among the Haradrim for several years after his ship bound for Valinor had been attacked by a fleet of Corsairs and he was taken captive. After escaping his prison, Keldarion had roamed the land of the South disguised as a Haradrim mercenary, hunting down his captors for vengeance.

Despite his pain, Keldarion grinned crookedly at his brother. "Legolas, you sound like a blasted parrot."

"Parrot?" Legolas blinked and shook his head. "What? Why do you say that?"

"You keep repeating everything I said!" Keldarion laughed out loud. Suddenly he gasped, clutching hard at his chest. Eyes clenched tightly shut, he groaned as he bore down the acute stabbing pain. "I…I may need…your help…now."

Alarmed, Legolas broke out of his stupor and rushed to his brother. He caught Keldarion around the shoulders and gently lowered him to the ground. With practiced eyes, he inspected the still bleeding injury, noticing that Keldarion had broken off the long end of the arrow, leaving the arrowhead still buried inside his flesh.

To Legolas' mounting fear, his brother began to bleed from the mouth and nose. Keldarion's lung was indeed punctured, and he now had troubled breathing with all the blood clogging his throat. Legolas needed to work fast and precise before his brother could suffocate.

But first, he had to get the arrowhead out—a task that both brothers had been dreading.

**TBC…**


	9. 9

**Deana**** You're back as the 1st reviewer, I see.**

**Rutu**** Yes, I agree with you that thee most striking similarity between Kel and Hector is that their younger brothers happen to be played by Orli. (Balls is…uh…how to say it…Well, one of the readers suggested to tell you that balls mean…err…a male's part where the sun doesn't shine and it's…uh…God, I'm blushing here!)**

**Leralonde**** You were not the only one who was left drooling in the cinema watching KOH. Me, I drooled a bucket!**

**Seylin**** I _do_ get a high when torturing the readers. How did you know? **

**Courtney**** Why, thank you so much. Keep on reading, girl!**

**Szhismine**** I need to make a correction. Until today, I've seen KOH _thrice_, not twice. I know, I'm crazy. LOL!**

**Keluin**** Lossehilin**** Yes, I've got your mail. Thank you for the support about the idea! I'll let you be one of the first persons to read that fic after it's finished!**

**Karriya**** That is the longest review you've ever made! Awesome, and thanks! I'll check out your fic when it is posted on board, I promise. Love to read the work of another writer from Asia.**

**Yami**** Tai :**** Your friend is indeed the stupidest lucky people in the world. He declined Orli's offer to sit next to him? Really, I feel like hitting him! (your friend, not Orli).**

**Elemmr**** My plot bunnies are a lot happier now. See, they are dancing the jigs!**

**JoeAteMuffin**** HOLY COW! I was violent, wasn't I? No, I won't kick that cliffie habit. I need it to survive.**

**Delano**** I can understand why KOH is rated R in your country. Trust me, it's remarkably violent. Movrak and Michael Jackson? Quite an uncanny resemblance you said? Yikes! **

**Legosgurl**** Still laughing, mate? He he he…**

**Stealth67**** If you want to buy the dvd, I suggest you get the extended version which will come out at the end of the year.**

**A NuEvil**** Someone definitely pushed you! And guess what? That someone was me! **

**Theo darkstar**** Have you received 'Triple Jeopardy'?**

**Irish Anor**** Oh, I'm glad you like the battle scene! I nearly killed myself while making that, dodging between those elves' blades and sword!**

**Kalayna**** I know what you mean. Legolas was not behaving like himself in that chapter. Maybe he needs to see a therapist. **

**Ceyxa**** Err…I might sound quite dense to you but…what is Monty Phyton?**

**Likurstorys**** Over a year now? It's so nice to finally hear from you! Keep reading, mellon!**

**I know, I know! I'm terribly hate! So sorry. Lot's of things is happening in my life right now, what with Kimi winning that Spanish GP, juggling with my monthly financial presentation to the board, and me winning a small contest in our local magazine (I won a hamper worth RM1,000 of Lancome products! Yay!). **

**Note :**** I'm feeling generous, so I might post another chapter today!**

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Legolas didn't know how long he stared, panic-stricken, at his brother's ashen face. But he instantly jerked back to life when he heard the heart-wrenching wheezing sound that Keldarion was making as he fought for breath, an amount of blood covering his nose and mouth.

"Leh…Legluh…" Keldarion panted in misery, his fists clenching and unclenching within Legolas' grasp.

"I'm here, brother. I'm here," Legolas said soothingly as he stroked his brother's temple. "You are going to be fine, I promise you. Now, let's make you comfortable, shall we?"

Keldarion was positioned on his side, on top of a cloak that Legolas had hastily spread on the ground. With gentle hands, the younger elf arranged his brother's head so that his right cheek was resting against the warm fabric.

The blood flowed out freely out of Keldarion's throat then, giving relief to his breathing passage. He managed to take several deep gulps of air before a spasm of agony suddenly burst inside his chest. He could have screamed out loud if he had had enough air to do that.

"Shh, easy, big brother. Easy, now. Don't breathe too fast. Let your lungs take it slow and steady. All right, Kel. That's it. Very nice. You're doing well."

As he crooned alternately in Sindarin and Quenya, Legolas wiped the blood off his brother's face. He then worked to release the leather scabbard from around Keldarion's waist before carefully pulling down his brother's tunic and undershirt over one shoulder until the arrow wound lay exposed. Keldarion moaned, his eyes shut and teeth gritting. Obviously, the movement pained him very much.

Brushing Keldarion's long raven hair out of the way, Legolas quietly apologized. He loathed hurting his brother this way, yet he had no choice. He fervently wished that he was still a _manyan_, that he still had the power to heal. If only he had never lost the ability to remove his brother's pain just using the simple touch of his hand...

But he couldn't do that anymore, he hadn't been able to for over fifteen years now. And it was doubtful that he would get his erstwhile gift back.

Giving his brother a brief squeeze on the shoulder, Legolas left him to head towards the dwindling fire situated in the middle of the camp. After burying the sharp point of his dagger into the glowing embers, he straightened and swiftly took in his surroundings with keen eyes, grimacing at the dead bodies strewn all around him. The high stench of blood and urine that permeated the air, caused his nose to wrinkle in disgust.

There was nothing he could do about the revolting scenery right now, but the dead men might have left something that he could use to treat his brother's injury. Keldarion's life was hanging by a thread, and Legolas had neither time nor luxury to retrieve the packs that they had left behind with their horses up the hill. He had to make do with anything at hand.

Rummaging through the men's belongings, Legolas found several swaths of bandage and clean towels. He then grabbed a couple of water skins and carried the whole bundle to his brother's side. Keldarion still had his eyes closed, but he was breathing steadily, albeit weakly.

"Kel?" Legolas softly called, afraid that his brother would not respond.

Keldarion's eyes fluttered open, gazing dazedly back at the other elf. "Oh. Hello, Legolas. Are we…there yet?"

Frowning slightly, Legolas uncorked one of the water skins and wet a towel. He soothingly ran the damp cloth over his brother's sweaty face. "_Where_ exactly do you mean, Kel?"

"H…home, Mirkwood," the elder prince responded. "Aislinn is…about to have our…our baby."

Smiling reassuringly, Legolas cupped his brother's cheek. He could feel that Keldarion had already developed a fever, and it was steadily rising by the minute. No wonder he was slightly delirious.

"No, she is not, Kel. You were just dreaming. Can't you remember what happened?"

Keldarion blinked and slowly looked around him. Recognition slowly flared in his eyes. "Right. Darion. The marauders. The fight. The bloody arrow…and stupid me."

"Well, you got no argument there. I think you're pretty stupid, too." Legolas grinned, bending over the hole in Keldarion's chest. "All right, Kel. Here's the story. I need to get this arrowhead out of you before it starts poisoning your blood. I'll reach for it with my fingers, so that I shall know if it breaks and leaves splinters inside."

"Fine." Keldarion grunted in reply as Legolas' gently poked at his chest to confirm the arrowhead's whereabouts. The younger prince then slowly poured a trickle of water over the wound, washing away the blood and dirt. Keldarion jerked at the stinging sensation, hissing and swearing under his breath.

"Sorry, sorry," Legolas apologized profusely. Looking extremely pale with guilt, he hastily searched through a small pouch at his waist. ""Did you bring any herbs with you, Kel? I forgot to bring any dry _althelas_ or _herbendea_with me. Any of those would help dull your pain."

_Typical Legolas_. Keldarion rolled his eyes, amused. _There's always something he forgets to bring for a journey._

"What the blazes do you have in that pouch, then?"

His face turning red, Legolas took out three locks of very fine hair—two ebony, and one golden. "Err…Nara and the twins' hair."

Keldarion couldn't help it. He laughed until his shoulders shook from it. "What did you bring those for?"

Legolas grew even redder, pushing the shiny locks of his three beloveds back into his pouch. "For charm, and to ward off evil luck."

"You really think it works?" Keldarion teased.

Sending his brother a killing glare, Legolas retorted, "Well, I'm not the one who is lying on his back with an arrow in his lung, mind you!"

Not offended in the least, Keldarion grinned. "I didn't know you were such a sentimental person, little brother."

"I'm _not _sentimental, all right? Cut it out or I'll gag you," Legolas growled. "Did you bring any herbs or not?"

Still smiling, Keldarion pointed at the purse attached to his leather scabbard. "There. You'll find some _althelas_. Unlike you, I always come prepared."

"Right. That proves how boring a person you are."

Keldarion's eyes widened. "Excuse me? _Boring_?"

It was Legolas' turn to grin. He went through Keldarion's purse and took out several dried leaves of the healing plant. "Yes, Kel. You are always so prepared for anything. Why can't you just be _unprepared_ for a change and meet all the surprises coming your way, head on? That would make your life more exciting."

Keldarion gave his brother a funny look. "Legolas, I _was_ caught unprepared. See this wound, the arrow in my chest? How more exciting do you want my life to get?"

Chuckling, Legolas chose some of the dried leaves to place against his brother's lips. "Here, chew on them."

Keldarion obeyed without protest. He watched as Legolas drew up his sleeves and washed both hands. His younger brother was calm and composed, looking ready to the world to administer a very complicated surgery. But Keldarion knew better. He saw how Legolas' hands shook and his eyes shone bright with tension.

"It will go well, Legolas. You are going to do fine," the elder prince said softly, reassuring his brother.

"_I'm_ the one who should tell you that." Legolas gave him a wan smile. "Now, brace yourself. I'm about to dig for the arrowhead."

"Before that, can you get me my sword?"

Legolas looked puzzled for a moment before going to retrieve his brother's blade from where it was lying next to Patch-eye's dead body. "Here. Say, what do you need this for? Are you going to stab me with it when your pain gets too great?"

With a sly grin, Keldarion placed the sword by his side and gripped at its pommel. "I _might_."

Legolas warily eyed his brother, and then shook himself back into business mode. "Fine, then. Do as you wish. May I start now?"

Keldarion tightened his grip on his sword until his knuckles turned white, bracing himself for the impending pain. "Now, you may."

With full concentration, the former _manyan_ probed at the arrow wound before he gently inserted his index finger through the small gap. Keldarion flinched and grunted, causing Legolas to pause.

"Don't…mind me. H…hurry…" the elder elf gasped, his face turning as pale as ghost from the pain.

Legolas continued on. He dug deeper, searching for the metal. His finger was already halfway through when he finally felt the sharp and hard surface of the arrowhead. He then slowly slit his thumb inside, ignoring the low moans and whimpers that his brother emitted.

"I've found it," Legolas declared shortly after, perspiration beading his forehead. "It is not broken, still intact. I'm going to pull it out now."

Keldarion nodded his assent, biting his lower lip until it bled. Holding his own breathe, Legolas began the agonizing process of tugging the arrowhead out.

Keldarion writhed.

Legolas sweated.

And then…

"Got it!" Grinning, Legolas held aloft the offending sharp metal for his brother to see. Keldarion made a face at it.

"Lovely," he muttered, his breathing growing extremely labored.

Knowing that his brother was not out of danger yet, Legolas tossed down the arrowhead and quickly pressed a folded towel over the gaping wound. It had started to bleed profusely once more.

"Listen, Kel," he said, brushing a strand of hair out of Keldarion's eye. "After I stop the bleeding, I need to cauterize your wound before infection sets in."

Swallowing down the hot bile of nausea that rose to his throat, Keldarion nodded. "Do…whatever you…have to do…"

Keldarion didn't know what happened next, he must have passed out. When he reopened his eyes, his younger brother was gazing down at him, holding a blazing hot dagger in one hand—and looking deeply terrified.

"Kel, if you are not up to this…"

"Just…do it."

Legolas gulped nervously. From the moment he took his dagger out of the fire, he had been praying that he knew exactly what he was doing. Putting on a brave face, he gave his brother a brittle grin. "Want me to knock you out cold first?"

"Try it…and I'll…knock you out cold…m'self…" Keldarion mumbled.

Legolas found that notion hilarious, so he laughed. "There's still hope for you then, brother. Now, are you ready?"

"Do you…really want me to…answer that?"

"Oh, you need not answer. But I really have to warn you, Kel, this is going to hurt like the very devil. I know, because I've been through it before and it took three people to hold me down and…"

"Legolas?"

"Yes?"

"Get on with it."

Legolas ceased babbling. Without a word, he placed a clean towel between his brother's teeth. Keldarion bit it down and prepared himself for the next wave of agony.

The instant the burning dagger touched his wound, Keldarion regretted declining his brother's offer to knock him unconscious.

**TBC…**


	10. 10

**Yep, I did tell you that I'm feeling generous so here's the second chapter for today! Enjoy!**

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Legolas woke up with a start, his hands automatically reaching for his blades. But he quickly relaxed when he realized that the sound he had heard just now was nothing but the popping of the burning logs in the fire, several yards away.

Stretching languidly, he sat up straighter and looked up at the lightening sky. It was near dawn. Who knew how long he had been asleep. The last thing he remembered was sitting against the wagon wheel, singing softly in the night as he bathed down his brother's fever. It looked like he had been put to sleep by his own voice.

Legolas shook his head and berated himself for dozing off while watching over his brother. Glancing briefly at the still unconscious Keldarion, he stood to toss more twigs into the fire. Satisfied that the flame was big enough to last till morning, he returned to his brother's side.

Gently, he lifted Keldarion's head and placed it on his lap. Stroking his brother's face, Legolas was glad to know that Keldarion's fever was already broken. He was still warm, but not too warm. The only thing that worried Legolas right now was that his brother still had not regained consciousness. When the hot blade was placed on his wound, Keldarion had screamed bloody murder and promptly fainted. He had not even stirred since.

As Keldarion lay quite comatose following that crude surgery, Legolas had taken the opportunity to straighten up the 'hijacked' camp. He had dragged the corpses away and dumped them all in one spot before going through the dead men's belongings for more water skins and some clothes. He had also rummaged around in the wagon until he had found a couple of clean blankets, which he then spread over Keldarion's shuddering form. Next, when he was sure that his brother was in total safety and not in any danger of succumbing to his wound, Legolas had rushed up the hill to retrieve their packs and mounts. When he had returned back to the camp, Keldarion's condition looked no better or less.

Running his hand through his brother's soft black hair—as much for comfort as giving it—Legolas began a silent prayer. He knew that Keldarion's injury was no longer life threatening, but he couldn't help but hope that his elder brother would not fall into a relapse, or worse, develop blood poisoning. If that happened, he had no other choice but to rush back to Minas Tirith to give Keldarion the proper treatment. Legolas hated to abandon the search for Eldarion. But if he had to choose, his brother's life would have to come first.

Keldarion's sudden moan yanked Legolas' gaze downward. His older brother was finally stirring, thank the Valar.

"Kel? You've awakened?" he softly asked.

Keldarion blinked to awareness, staring somewhat dazedly at his brother. "I…I don't know. Am I?"

That caused Legolas to grin. He raised his hand. "That's easy to find out. Tell me, how many fingers do you see?"

"I see two. And if you don't take those fingers out of my face right away, I'm going to shove them right up your nose," Keldarion sweetly replied.

Legolas laughed and embraced his brother. "That's it; you are definitely awake, big brother. How are you feeling, really?"

Not bothering to reply, Keldarion determinedly pushed himself to a sitting position. That, however, turned out to be a big mistake, as great pain instantly exploded in his chest, causing him to cry out in anguish.

Shaking his head, Legolas gently pushed his brother back onto his sleeping pallet. "You are moving too fast and too soon, Kel. Your wound is still very tender. Rest easy now. I'll get you some water."

Cursing under his breath at the constant pain and his own hastiness, Keldarion glared at the bandage neatly wrapped around his upper torso. There were several spots of blood on the white cloth, he saw, but nothing major. Still, he yanked the blanket up to his chin lest his brother notice the bloodied bandage and make a great fuss over it.

"Here, drink," Legolas said. He helped hold the water skin as his brother slowly wet his throat.

"Enough. No more." Keldarion feebly pushed the water skin away when he finished. He briefly closed his eyes, panting from exhaustion. When he reopened his eyes, he found his brother giving him a nervous frown. Weakly, he chuckled.

"You know, Legolas, this is why I fear to have children."

The younger prince was perplexed when hearing that. "Excuse me? What are you talking about?"

Keldarion's chuckles broke off as he winced in pain, clutching at his wounded chest. His voice was grave when he said, "If…if I have a son or daughter, someday I might leave them fatherless."

For several long heartbeats, Legolas gaped at his brother, totally speechless.

"Kel," he said quietly, "You are not going to die."

"Yes, well, I was _about_ to," Keldarion responded with a light snort.

"But you _didn't_."

"I'm not invincible, Legolas. No one is. Death comes without warning."

Legolas sighed. Lowering his head, he squeezed his brother's hand. "Really, Kel, do we really need to discuss such dismal matters?"

For a while, Keldarion was silent. His eyes were exceptionally bright as he gazed deeply at his brother's magnificent features, so different and yet so alike to his. Then, gazing at their joined hands, he spoke, "I'm not afraid of dying, brother. It's leaving behind my loved ones that scares me so."

Looking up, Legolas opened his mouth to say something. He then changed his mind when he saw the grim expression on Keldarion's face, as if his older brother was about to make a thorough confession to him. Whatever it was, it must have everything to do with his current estrangement with his human wife, Aislinn.

Keldarion cleared his throat before he continued, "One of the things that makes me so afraid to have children is that I…I don't know if I can be a good father to them."

Legolas stared incredulously at his brother. "That's nonsense! You _will_ be a good father. I saw the way you handled my twin boys. I saw how gentle and patient you were with them. Like Nara once said, you are the ultimate father material!"

Smiling, Keldarion replied, "Ultimate father material am I? What did she say about you then? The ultimate husband material?"

With a naughty grin, his head cocked to one side, Legolas pretended to be thoughtful. "Actually, yes, she did say that."

He then shook his head at his brother. "But that's beside the point. What I'm trying to tell you is that when you have a child, you will forget all the fears and anxiety that has been plaguing you. You might think you are a terrible father now, but when you hold your son or daughter in your arms, you will immediately know that nothing will stop you from giving your child the love and protection he or she deserves. If you have already shown it with my twins, what make you think that you would do any worst with your own children?"

Keldarion looked gratefully at his brother, but he still seemed a little sad. "I've become a changed person, Legolas. After the Corsairs captured me and made me their slave, some light in my heart died. It took me no great effort to turn from a warrior into a cold-blooded murderer. I've told you everything of what I did to my former captors. I've done many evil things to them to get my vengeance. I'm not proud of it, but I won't regret it either. You know how black my heart had become, little brother. I don't want any of that blackness to spread down to my children."

Like a fish, Legolas' mouth opened and closed repeatedly for a full second.

"Are you telling me that you think your blood is stained and that you don't deserve to have offspring?" He whacked his brother upside the head. "Kel, you are so dense!"

"Hey!" Keldarion protested, rubbing his smarting head. "What did you do that for?"

"To make you see reason!" Legolas retorted. "Really, Kel. Is this why you up and left your wife in Mirkwood and drove me up the wall with your strange moodiness? Valar! I feel like strangling you!"

"But I was just telling you the truth! This is what I really feel!"

"Well, let me tell you what _I_ feel; it's baseless." Legolas shook his head. "Sincerely, Kel, for someone so smart you can be terribly dumb sometimes. Let me remind you that every child born into the world is so pure they are like a piece of white cloth. It is the parents' responsibility to give their children the appropriate colors—be it blue or green or yellow or red. It's your choice, to decorate the canvas of your child's life. If you want it black, then black it is. Only you can decide. Remember, it is the parent's current actions that will shape a child's character, not the past deeds of his or her sire."

For a long time, Keldarion gazed at his younger brother without speaking, his eyes slightly glistening. When he finally spoke, his voice was a bit unsteady with emotions, "You know, Legolas, you sound a lot like our father. Did he give you some…uh…tips for such speech?"

Legolas just laughed. "Why? Did I sound too smart to you?"

"Yes, too smart it creeps me out." Keldarion faked a shudder. Smiling, he turned away to look at the dancing flame. Thinking of his wife, though, caused his smile to slowly fade.

Legolas saw this, and knew that their talk was not over yet. "What is it, Kel? What else do you need to tell me?"

Stabbed by anxiety, Keldarion swallowed. "I'm still scared, Legolas."

"What are you afraid of? Do you still think you're not fit to be a father?"

"It's not that. It's just that…" Keldarion released a heavy sigh of despair, and looked straight at his brother. "I'm afraid for Aislinn."

"Why would you be?"

"She has been begging me for years to give her a child to carry, but I just can't do it, Legolas. I can't see her pregnant. What if she dies when she gives birth to our child?"

Legolas' eyes widened when he finally realized what Keldarion's trouble really was. His brother was afraid that his wife would die the same way their mother did!

"Kel…"

"Don't take this wrongly, Legolas. I'm not blaming you for what happened to our mother. In fact, you are the best gift she has ever given me in my entire life. But I can never forget that day, when I paced for hours in front of her chamber as she fought with her own life to bring you into the world. I banged at the door when I heard her scream with pain, but no one would let me in. They said that she had fallen down the stairs, and that she had hemorrhaged because of it. She insisted in bringing you out then and there for fear that it would kill you along with her. When you were born, you looked so small and delicate we thought you might not last a day. In the end, it was mother who died. She, a strong beautiful elven queen, gave up her life for the love of her son."

By then, tears were already rolling down Keldarion's cheeks. "Mother had lost her fight, so how can I be assured that my wife, a mere mortal, would survive through childbirth? Oh, I _do_ want children, Legolas, very badly. I envy you your twins. They are so perfect and beautiful that I want another pair of them for my own. But should I put Aislinn through all the pain just to get what I want only to regret it later? Ai, Valar. I'm so torn. I don't know what to do…"

Weeping himself, Legolas soothingly stroked his brother's head, whispering some endearments. "I know what you need to do, Kel. You have to talk to Aislin—and I mean a true heart to heart talk. Tell her everything. Let her know your fears. Your wife is a good and smart woman. I believe she knows what to say to you to cease your worry, if you would only listen to her. It's _her_ body, her womb that would carry the child for nine months. Who are you to say that she is not strong enough to become a mother? She is not going to die at childbirth simply because our mother did. These are two different persons with two different circumstances. Look, Kel, whether you believe this or not, I think that not only are you going to dandle your children on your knees, but also your _grand_children."

Brushing his tears away, Keldarion smiled. "You make it sound so wonderful."

"It _is_ wonderful so stop making it so bloody hard," Legolas stressed on, wiping his wet eyes against his sleeve. "Take one thing at a time and you are going to do fine. Trust me, I've been there. I do get paralyzed by fear once in a while but…Oh, for the joy of being a father! There's no words to describe it."

"Your word is enough to convince me." Keldarion nodded. "All right, little brother. I'll talk to Aislinn when I get home—_if_ we get home, that is."

"Don't jinx it." Legolas warned with a mock glare. "We _will_ get home. In fact, I'm thinking of turning back to Minas Tirith so that you can get the proper rest and some medicine…"

"No!" Keldarion all but shouted. He immediately winced and groaned out loud from the sudden pain in his chest. "We must…_not _go home until we find Darion. I'll be all right. You said so yourself."

"Sometimes I have no idea who is the most stubborn between us two." Legolas rolled his eyes. He gently placed his brother's head on a folded blanket and rose to her feet. "Are you hungry? I found some leftover soup in a pot."

Keldarion grimaced. "You mean, you can stomach the food of the people that we killed?"

"Why not? They don't need it anymore, but we surely do." Legolas wryly grinned. "Or do you want me to cook?"

"You? _Cook_?" Holding his throat in one hand, Keldarion made a gagging sound. "Ai! Elbereth save me from food poisoning! Thank you for offering, Legolas, but I have to decline. I don't want to jeopardize my virility. Now get me the blasted soup."

Chortling with mirth, Legolas walked towards a small black pot sitting next to the fire. He lifted the lid, and was instantly assailed by the tasty aroma of mixed carrot and mushroom soup. His stomach rumbled involuntarily with hunger. Muttering to himself, Legolas searched around for a cup or a bowl to scoop out the soup.

And then he froze when he suddenly sensed a strange presence near the camp. He felt like he was being watch. His face composed, Legolas calmly walked back to his brother's side. Keldarion was staring hard at him, for he also had sensed it.

Giving his brother a brief wink, Legolas picked up his bow, nocked an arrow into position and aimed it at a point somewhere in the darkness. "Whoever you are, come out now or I have no other choice but to shoot you. Believe me, I never miss."

Tense silence reigned for a several seconds.

Shortly after, someone spoke, "I believe you, my friend. In fact, I know firsthand how dangerous you are with that bow."

A tall golden-haired man came into view. He was bare-chested and smiling from ear to ear as he approached the camp. "Hello, Legolas, Keldarion. Long time no see."

Legolas slowly lowered his bow, his mouth gaping open.

Keldarion gasped, blinking rapidly like an owl.

They knew the man. He was the famous _draq_ named Gallard, or more well-known as the King of the Tasqamaran.

In other words, Hawkeye the eagle had returned…in the flesh.

**TBC…**

**I hope I'm not too late, but I would like to take this opportunity to wish Happy Mother's Day to all mothers out there! We love you moms!**


	11. 11

**Deana **** I guess chapter 11 is a little bit late in coming, eh? Sorry for the wait.**

**Bitterlee**** I don't think they will ever learn. If they learn, then they will be no more stories! Ha! Ha!**

**Leralonde**** Uh, you're right. Leggy still has his clothes on. But he will take off his shirt in this chapter, while in chapter 15 or 16 or whatever, I'll make sure he bares it all! Mmm, yummy! (Is Leggy gonna do a striptease? No, I'm not telling.)**

**Keluin**** Lossehilin**** Yes, Hawkeye's back. The Three Stooges are in for another adventure! (Actually, I got the idea for that canvas thing from my mother. She's one beautiful lady with lots of beautiful philosophies.)**

**Ceyxa**** Firstly, I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother. Yes, it happened a long time ago. But still we miss what we have lost. As for when Legolas lost his _manyan_ ability, it took place in my 1st fic, 'The Evil Bride'.**

**Kalayna**** I'm glad you like the simile. KOH is rated R in your country? Oh, poor you. In my country, it is rated G. Strange, isn't it? (Like Leggy, I'm quite a sentimental person too. I have an old photo of my parents' wedding in my purse, carried everywhere with me.)**

**Rutu**** No, I'm not a mother yet, so it doesn't apply. Ha ha ha! Oh, you can ask whatever questions you want, be it silly or awkward. I love them and I'll try my best to answer. Gosh, that was frightening about your brother missing like that! I lost my nephew once in a playground and we thought he had been kidnapped! But, no, he was playing happily by himself under one of the slides. What a relief! (Mmm. Stories for C2, stories for C2… If you want angst, how about 'Thorns In My Mind'? Oh, put on whatever you want, mate! I'm all yours. )**

**Theo darkstar**** You ask me the one question I cannot answer. Why is 'Triple Jeopardy' removed? Your guess is as good as mine. The reason which the ffnet board gave me was so vague, I still can't figure out what it was that I had done wrong. When I requested further explanation, they didn't even bother to reply. Maybe _somebody_ else will?**

**Delano**** Oh, go give Kel a hug. He needs it. Yes, it has been more than fifteen years now since the _manyan_ stone was taken out of Leggy. I'll try to come out with the correct date later on.**

**Sailor Elf :**** Of course, he will help. What do you think he is there for? Being a spy to the brothers' wives? He he he!**

**A NuEvil**** It is indeed nerve-wracking. I both love and hate it at the same time. It keeps my adrenaline going on and on until I go crazy from it. (Hawkeye first appeared in 'Trauma').**

**Karriya**** Great hockey game you had there! And you cheated? Good. If you don't cheat, then it's not a game. LOL! Yes. My posting schedule sucks right now. Like I said before, blame it on my boss!**

**Lomeril**** I had tears in my eyes reading your review. Thank you so much, mellon. It's a great honor to know that people is enjoying my work. I know that many readers have demanded that I put back 'Triple Jeopardy' on board, but I'm still not ready to do it for fear to have it removed again. If you want to read it, I'll be more than happy to e-mail it to you.**

**TaniaNZ**** Nice to see you back! How's vacation in Down Under? Got a good tan? (Talking about Marton Csokas, I love him in Bourne Supremacy. He looks hot!)**

**I know I'm late but please don't kill me for it because my PC acted up again and my boss keeps looking over my shoulders to see what I am doing and my colleagues keeps disturbing me to read this fic!**

**Anyway, here's the hastily written chapter 11.**

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To say that the Mirkwood brothers were stunned was an understatement.

They were thoroughly stupefied.

"H…Hawkeye?" Keldarion croaked, still blinking in disbelief.

"Gallard!" Legolas exclaimed in deep shock. He lowered his bow, staring wide eyed at his long-time friend. "Where the blazes did you come from? And what on earth are you doing here?"

Grinning at their reactions, the _draq_walked closer until he stood right in front of Legolas. "Why? Aren't you pleased to see me?"

"No! I mean…yes, of course we are pleased to see you but…" Legolas shrugged as he also started to grin. "What the heck. Come here, you!"

Keldarion watched in a slight daze as his brother and Gallard exuberantly embraced, slapping each other's back and laughing like a pair of loons. The sound of their rejoicing was so loud that a flock of birds scampered away from under the bushes, rudely awakened from their sleep.

This was not the first time that Keldarion had seen Gallard outside his eagle form. Still, he was impressed by the uncanny resemblance the man had to Legolas, which was clearly obvious when they stood so close together like that. They had the same long golden hair, the same physique, the same smile, and the same devil-may-care attitude. The only big difference was that Gallard had tawny eyes instead of silver.

And, unlike Legolas, he could fly.

Technically, Gallard was half man, half eagle. He was a _draq_, a shape-shifter that could take the form of the noble predatory bird at his whim. In fact, when they had first met him, they thought Gallard was indeed a full-bloodied eagle. Gimli, the dwarf, had given Legolas the bird so that the _manyan_ prince could heal its broken wing. Legolas had grown fond of it and named it Hawkeye, not knowing that his beloved pet was a lot more than it seemed.

The entire truth only came out about ten years ago when, one night, a stranger had literally dropped from the sky onto Legolas' balcony. Suffering from an arrow wound, he had sought help and refuge from the Lord of Ithilien. No one was more shocked than Legolas when the injured man claimed that he was Hawkeye the eagle, but the elf's doubt instantly vanished the moment he witnessed Gallard'sincredible transformation.

Afterwards, they had been some confusion when Legolas was mistakenly abducted by the _shraqs_, the shape-shifting ravens—sworn enemy to the Tasqamaran, a kingdom of _draqs_far across the sea. Gallard—accompanied by Aragorn and his army—had swiftly sailed to his island home and regained his rightful seat on the throne from his treacherous uncle, who had led the _shraqs_ in the coup by assassinating the old king. Having defeated the traitor and his cohorts, Gallard was then crowned the new ruler of Tasqamaran.

From then on, Gallard's jovial visits to see Legolas grew less and less frequent. Not that he had forgotten his good friend, but his demanding role as a king did not permit him to roam free and easy like he used to. Except for attending the occasional festivities and formal functions in Gondor or Ithilien, King Gallard never left his kingdom.

Until now.

"Err…" Keldarion loudly cleared his throat as the former pet and master kept jumping over each other's speech to express their joy at the unexpected meeting.

"Excuse me? May I be included in this celebration, or should I catch some sleep and let you two at it till the sun comes up?" he wryly asked. At that, Legolas and Gallard ceased speaking and stared sheepishly at the wounded elf prince.

"Pardon us, Kel. We got a little carried away just now," Gallard said, grinning as he knelt down to squeeze Keldarion's hand in greeting. "Say, what happened here? Did Legolas accidentally shoot you?"

That caused Keldarion to laugh uncontrollably, which quickly turned into a loud groan as the pain in his chest intensified. Legolas, meanwhile, rolled his eyes.

"I take that as an insult!" he retorted, glaring at the _draq_. "By the way, why are you here, Gallard? Aren't you supposed to play king back home?"

Gallard's smile fell flat. Shrugging, he sat next to Keldarion and lazily draped his arms across his upraised knees. Staring at the ground under his feet, he sighed. "Why would they need a king when they already have a competent queen?"

At the strange remark, the elven brothers gaped back at him in incomprehension. "Eh?"

Realizing what he had just said, Gallard snatched his gaze back up and forced a smile on his face. "Never mind. I was simply muttering to myself."

Legolas' frown clearly showed that he was not utterly convinced. "Err…did I just hit a sore spot or something?"

"Look. Forget I said that, all right?" Gallard waved nonchalantly at the matter. He then jerked his chin Keldarion's way. "Now this is something new. Usually, it is Legolas who I would find lying on his back with holes all over him. So, what happened?"

"Kel got careless, _that's_ what happened." Legolas chuckled. He then gave Gallard a brief account of all the events since they had found out about Eldarion running away from home.

"You truly believe that this Movrak person holds Aragorn's son?" the _draq_ asked after Legolas finished with his story.

Swamped by sudden drowsiness, Keldarion responded with a slight slur, "I guess we have to. He's the only lead we have left."

Legolas noticed his brother's fatigue and instantly grew concerned. "Kel, are you all right?"

"Huh? What?" Keldarion blinked rapidly to fight against his heavy eyes. "Y...yes. I'm fine. Just tired..."

Not fully satisfied, Legolas reached down and lifted the blanket which covered his brother. Inspecting the wound, he noticed the spots of blood on the bandage but, luckily, no infection had set in. "Does it still hurt too much?"

Keldarion weakly shook his head. "Not as bad as before. It throbs, though."

"I've found more herbs in your pack. The leaves may help dull the pain as your wound heals. I'll add some of those into the soup—that is, if you're feeling strong enough to eat anything."

"I'm so hungry I could eat a horse. Now where is that soup? I've been waiting for hours!"

Chuckling, Legolas walked back to the pot to resume the task he had abandoned when Gallard made his appearance. The _draq_ stared suspiciously at the bowl of soup Legolas carried over for his brother.

"You made _this_, Legolas?"

Legolas frowned. "No. Why?"

"Thank heavens for that!" Gallard released a sigh of relief. "Whatever you cook would only end up as poison!"

"Hey! I _can_ cook, mind you!" Legolas protested, reaching up to smack Gallard upside the head, the bowl balancing precariously in his other hand.

"Watch out, watch out!" Keldarion cautioned. "Give me the blasted soup before you drop it!"

Glowering at his friend, Legolas put down the bowl before he assisted his brother to sit upright. Gallard helped on Keldarion's other side, gently pushing the wounded elf backward until he was leaning against the wagon wheel.

Panting for breath, Keldarion gave them both a shaky grin after closing his eyes briefly. "This is nice. I feel so pampered. Having two serving minions is not really a bad thing indeed."

"Right," Legolas dryly replied, not looking the least bit impressed. "Well, enjoy it while it last because this serving minion of yours is about to cram this soup down your throat. Now open up."

"I can still feed myself, thank you very much!" Grumbling, Keldarion seized the bowl and took a cautious sip. Finding nothing wrong with the soup, he began to slurp away. As he ate, he turned to Gallard. "You have not answered our question. What are you doing here?"

Somehow, the Tasqamaran king was reluctant to explain. Then, noticing the determined hounding looks the elven brothers were giving him, Gallard nodded with a sigh. "Yes, I know I'm supposed to stay home and sit quietly on my throne."

"Kel didn't mean it that way and you know it," Legolas said, fixing his friend a gimlet stare. "_Why_ are you here? That's what we want to know. And where's your retinue? You _do_ have your own bodyguards, right?"

"I lost them somewhere in the woods of Belfalas," Gallard responded with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "They can't keep up with me so I shook them off my tail."

Legolas frowned. "But why did you do that?"

Staring hard at the man's gloomy face, Keldarion put down the bowl. "Honestly, Gallard, are you in trouble?"

Glancing between them, Gallard sighed again. "I'm fine, I'm not in trouble, my kingdom is doing great, and my wife gets even lovelier each day. Everything is wonderful."

He shrugged, saying in a much softer voice, "I just need some time alone by myself, that's all."

At that, Legolas' brows shot upward, while Keldarion's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"O-oh. I don't think I'm going to like the sound of this," Legolas muttered.

"Yes. This sounds so _terribly_ familiar, don't you think?" Keldarion nodded. "It reminds me of Eldarion and the entire mess he has gotten himself into."

Gallard rolled his eyes. "I did _not_ run away from home."

"Oh, really?" Legolas didn't buy it. "So what are you doing here? Having a bloody picnic?"

Gallard glared, his tawny eyes burning as bright as the gold in his hair.

"I need some space!" he shot back. "Why can't anybody see that? Why must everybody keep pestering me with so many questions? Why should they follow me everywhere I go? Why can't they tend to their own affairs and leave me to mine? And what is so important about the stupid decorations anyway? Who cares what color the drapes and tapestries are? Do we really need a bronze statue of myself in the middle of the vestibule? No! I don't think so. This is all Kylea's doing! She keeps decorating the place with these little knick-knacks or whatever until that tower resembles a museum! I can't even fly in my own home without bumping into one thing or another. I nearly broke my neck once when I went smack into a low hanging chandelier that wasn't even there the day before! Really, my own furniture will become the death of me one of these days."

The brothers watched, slack-jawed, as their friend continued on with his tirade, growing increasingly red in the face. After spewing out a short foul curse, Gallard went silent and took several deep breath to calm himself down.

A long—and tense—while later, Legolas finally reached up and patted Gallard on the back.

"It's tough to be a king, isn't it?" he remarked, sympathetically.

Looking extremely sheepish, the now composed _draq_ nodded. "Sorry for that outburst. I sounded like a total fool, didn't I? Just forget everything you heard, all right?"

"Don't you want to talk more about it? Maybe we can help," Keldarion offered.

Legolas resisted the urge to snort out loud in amusement.

_Yeah, right_, he thought, _Your__ own relationship with you wife is not looking so rosy, Kel, and now you want to help Gallard with his? Come on, get real!_

Coughing to hide his bubbling laughter, Legolas kept a straight face as he remarked, "You don't sound too happy with your wife after what she has done to your place."

Embarrassed, Gallard lowered his eyes and nodded. "I didn't mean to sound so ungrateful but…well, she likes to decorate and that is what she keeps on doing and doing. I can't blame her, though. The place looks nice and homey, great for impressing our guests, yet I don't feel quite at home. There are too many delicate and expensive ornaments around that I fear breaking any one of them. I start to feel insecure, you know, like I have to be on my guard all the time lest I drop a figurine here or knock a vase there. But I don't have the heart to tell Kylea how I feel. She is my queen. She has rights to my home and property, whether to beautify it or ransack it as she wishes, even if it gives me headaches."

Legolas couldn't hold it any longer. He burst into roaring laughter, clutching his tummy while his entire frame shook with his mirth. Keldarion and Gallard gawked at him as if he had sprouted a second head, which caused Legolas to laugh all the harder.

Looking bemusedly at the _drag_, Keldarion asked, "Want me to hit him for you?"

Gallard shook his head. "No, thank you. I'd prefer to do it myself."

With a yelp, Legolas quickly leaped away before Gallard's palm could connect with his head. "Take it easy, my friend. I mean you no insult."

"Then why are you laughing at me?" The golden-haired man looked angry enough to spit fire out of his mouth. But Legolas also noticed that Gallard's eyes glimmered with hurt. The elf quickly sobered.

"Forgive me, Gallard. I didn't mean any disrespect," Legolas said as he edged closer to his friend to squeeze his shoulder. "Coincidentally, Keldarion and I have our own…uh…_problems_ with our respective wives right now. So, you see, I can't help but find humor in all this. I mean, here we are, the three of us, far away from our beloved significant others. And why is that? Lack of communication, _that's_ why."

Keldarion chuckled. "There he goes again, preaching away like a wise wizard."

Ignoring his brother's rib, Legolas continued, "Why is it so hard for us to tell our ladies about our fears and insecurity? Would it make us appear weak and foolish in their eyes if we did? I don't believe so. If truth be told, I think it would make us stronger and feel a lot better with ourselves."

Legolas stared straight at Gallard. "Tell Kylea what you really think about her decorating your place. There's nothing wrong in stating your opinion to your wife. Whether she takes it kindly or not is a different matter but you need to admit the truth to her. She is no psychic, my friend. She is unaware that you are uncomfortable with your own home, so you have to let her know. If she loves you enough, she is not going to judge you on that. In fact, she will do something to rectify the matter. Trust me on this."

His mouth hanging open, Gallard stared incredulously at the Lord of Ithilien. "All right, who the heck are you? Where's Legolas? What have you done to my friend?"

That did it. Legolas laughed again, this time with Keldarion joining in.

"Seriously, Legolas, I thought it was your father talking just then." Gallard shook his head, and grinned. "The only difference is, Lord Thranduil is a lot better looking than you are. You look as if you have been operating a butcher house. You smell like one too."

Pushing away, Legolas sniffed at himself. He grimaced when the high stench of blood and rotten flesh hit his nostril.

"Pheh! I smell worse than a pigsty!" His face scrunched in disgust, Legolas stood and went to get the water skins. Shedding off his jerkin and tunic, he wet a towel and ran it all over his face and chest, muttering hotly to himself when he couldn't reach his back.

"Here, let me help you," Gallard proffered.

Legolas paused briefly. But then he shrugged and tossed Gallard the towel. "Sure. I always wanted a king to wash my back for me."

"Right." Keldarion grinned. "I still remember that one time when fatherwashed your back. You kept shrieking like a little girl."

Scowling at his brother, Legolas responded, "He was not washing my back. He _scrubbed_ it raw."

"Well, he had to. You had just fallen into the cesspit!"

Legolas' face reddened as his two companions laughed uproariously with delight at his bad luck. His own nose wrinkled when he recalled the scent from that 'tragic' event.

"Ha bloody ha," he muttered. "I'm glad you two find it so funny."

"Not _then_, maybe. All the windows in the palace had to be left open the entire day to let out the heavy and…uh…interesting aroma," Keldarion said, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes. With a grimace, he clutched at his chest. "Great. I think I just bust my lung again from laughing so much."

"Serves you right," Legolas shortly stated and looked over his shoulder. "Are you finished back there?"

Wiping off a patch of dried blood between Legolas' shoulder blades, Gallard then announced, "Done! You look as good as new, and smell as nice as a…"

"Don't even go there," Legolas warned with a mock glower, his lips twitching. Turning around, he went to his pack and took out a spare shirt. As he got dressed, he asked Gallard the question that had been plaguing him ever since the _draq_ had appeared.

"How did you find us?"

Humor aside, Gallard sat back down next to Keldarion and arranged the blanket more securely around the wounded prince. Keldarion's eyes were drooping, a sure signal that he was growing more lethargic by the minute, either from his injury or full belly.

"I never intended to find you," Gallard responded, looking a bit guilty. "I was just roaming aimlessly, with no actual purpose in mind. I thought of turning back to Tasqamaran before sunrise. Or rather, before Kylea sends out an army to arrest me."

He grinned at this. "I think I just make my wife crazy with worry. She is not going to be happy with me when I return. Anyway, I caught sight of this campfire from afar and thought it peculiar when I noticed a pile of corpses dumped nearby. I flew down to investigate, and you know all the rest."

"You still plan to fly home today?"

Gallard shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I'm not feeling like going home right now, not after I've heard the big trouble that Eldarion is in. Besides, Kel is injured. I'm thinking of joining you, and give you both some assistance. That is, until Eldarion is rescued and sent back to his family."

"You would do that?" Legolas cocked his head to one side as he studied his friend's expression. "What about Kylea?"

"She will understand. Oh, she will blister my ears with a long lecture and stuff, but she knows I will never abandon friends in need." Gallard smiled. "Thank you, Legolas, for what you've said to me earlier about telling her the truth. I'm not looking forward to it but that will be my first intention the moment I arrive home."

"Good." Legolas nodded. "This might sound cliché, but honesty is really the best policy for a fruitful marriage. Right, Kel? Err…Kel?"

No answer. Keldarion was already lost to the world, deeply asleep.

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The clanging sound of an iron bar being lifted roused Eldarion from his slumber.

Moaning slightly, the young man raised his head and looked through heavy-lidded eyes at the opening door to his cell. A tall, burly guardsman strode in, heading straight for the other corner of the small dark and dingy space. A moment later, he strode back out, dragging along a small boy by the wrist.

Whimpering with fright, the boy's tearful eyes stared helplessly at Eldarion, as if begging him to put a stop to this nightmare. Guilt ridden, Eldarion shamefully looked away and lay back on the floor, his own eyes watering and tightly shut.

The door closed with another loud clang. Without anyone telling him, Eldarion knew where the boy was being taken. And he hated himself for letting it happen.

The day before, when they were still caravanning through the desert, Movrak had ordered the lovely child slave to be brought into his tent. When the boy emerged not an hour later, he had looked terrible—his eyes vacant and his body trembling from head to foot. Movrak had come out seconds later, rubbing at his crotch. And then the man had the gall to smirk at Eldarion before barking the order to break camp and head for home.

_Home._

Eldarion chuckled without humor at the word. This was not his home. Minas Tirith was his home, not this fortress in the city of Harodem.

It was still late at night when they arrived, and all the slaves had been immediately hustled down the cellar. While most of the other slaves were crammed into one room, Eldarion was lucky to have this cell with only that young boy for company.

_Lucky?_

His tears fell at that. This had nothing to do with luck, he knew. Movrak had arranged it so, to torment and irritate him, to cause him fear and despair. Movrak wanted to show Eldarion through the small boy what he wished to do to him when the merchant got his chances.

"In the end, you will submit to me. Starting from tomorrow, you will be put into hard labor under the sun. We will see which part of you will break first—your back, or your spirit. Either one of them is fine by me," Movrak had gleefully told him before disappearing into his big sprawling house.

Those words still echoed in Eldarion's ears.

_I'm not going to break, _the prince vowed as he rubbed at his aching blistered feet. The long walk in the desert had been cruel on them.

_The only thing that will break is your head, Movrak._

_And I'll be holding the rock when it smashes down your skull!_

**TBC…**


	12. 12

**Saerwen**** Ahhh! You're reviewing backwards! You make me confuse! LOL! All right. Here's Movrak for your experimentation purposes. Don't return him to me until he stops breathing. (Pssst! You know what? No man ever 'hurt' me either. Imagine that, a virgin at 30!)**

**Leralonde**** Nope. Leggy would not let _that_ happen to Darion. But something will definitely happen to _him_. The _chapter_ is coming your way next week!**

**Rutu**** He he he…I can still hear your laughter. You put me in stitches. You want to kill Movrak? Get in line, mellon. The other readers have registered earlier than you. Ha ha ha!**

**Karriya**** No, it's never too late to watch KOH. How was it, then? Have a good time? (A cesspit is a…err…a hole where the…uh…erm…human refuse goes to. You know, like a sewer. And, no, it's definitely _not_ for swimming!)**

**Yami**** Tai :**** Stay curious. The tomb will make its appearance in due time. There's a story behind it.**

**Lomeril**** A fic about the cesspit? Hmm. Let me think. (snaps her fingers) Yes! There is one! Give me a month to work it out!**

**Delano**** LOL! That's it! It's 'get-frustrated-with-people-you-care-about' month in ME! Afterwards, I'm going to give you the month of 'clueless-princes-babysitting-troublesome-kiddies'!**

**Kalayna**** The rock is too heavy for you. Hold Movrak's head instead. Make sure that Darion does not miss his aim that he hit you instead.**

**Theo darkstar**** Right. I haven't written about Kel's first meeting with Gallard. I'll try to come out with something. Oh, don't worry. Those three companions will find Darion eventually. They are sidetracked for just a little while.**

**Sailor Elf :**** Spy for the ladies, eh? He he. Could be, could be.**

**Elemmr**** Yeah. I understand what you mean about the typo there. _Draq_ might become _drag_, and that would mean something else entirely, like _Drag Queen_ for instance! LOL!**

**BitterLee**** Rest assured, Leggy is not going through _that_ phase again. Nope. No more for him, I swear. (Movrak is like the current time pedophiles. Yikes! This kind of people really gives me the willies! Make me feel like hurting them real bad at the place where it hurts the most!)**

**LegolasLover2003**** Yay! You're back! And you're alive! Look out for Leggy's angst coming next week! (I hope _I'm_ still alive then. LOL!) You watch LOST too? How about CSI Las Vegas? Did you see the season finale where they buried Nick in a box? I haven't seen it yet 'cause it will take the AXN Asia a couple of months to screen it here! I hate waiting! Grrr!**

**Exiledelf2580**** What is Leggy fic without Leggy angst/torture? I assure you, his time will come. (cackles evilly). **

**Seylin**** A new comp! What a cool grad gift! Oooh, I'm green with envy! My PC is a year old, and already it gives me lots of headache. I think I need a new one too! Oh, congrats on your graduation!**

**Hello, everyone. I didn't mean to be late but I just caught a helluva flu. My head hurts, my eyes hurt, my skin burns, and I have a sore throat on top of all that. In fact, I can't even think straight. It sucks when we are sick, truly. I gave my plot bunnies three days medical leave, but they extend it to a full week! So cruel of them. **

**Anyway, I worked on this fic armed with a tissue in one hand and a glass of water in the other. So, if this one sounds a bit off, please bear in mind that I am still under the influence of antibiotics.**

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Legolas was not impressed by the Haradwaith desert. In fact, he hated it on spot.

There was nothing to like about the desert. There were no trees around, only dead bushes and gravel and a vast amount of sand dunes. The days were unbearably hot while the nights were…well, not too bad, actually. The wondrous display of stars in the pitch black sky made up for the vast emptiness of the dry unforgiving land. Still, the elf couldn't help but wish for a quick success to their mission so that they all could rush home where there were lots of trees and water—lots and lots of fresh water.

Not that they didn't bring any water with them. Before the crossing at the River Poros three days ago, Legolas and Gallard worked together to stock up their water supply. All the water skins had been filled, as well as a big wooden barrel which was previously used as a wine container, enough to see them through the journey to Harodem and back. Still, Legolas would pay anything for a nice cool spring where he could bath and wash the grime off his skin. His body felt sticky with sweat, while dust clung to his clothes. And the turban atop his head felt as if it weights a ton!

"Valar. A poor duck can roast alive in this," the prince muttered, glaring at the sinking sun. Even though sitting under the shade of the lean-to they had hastily erected against the wagon, he could not escape the blazing afternoon heat. Wiping the perspiration off his forehead, he glanced down at his brother lying next to him. Touching Keldarion's face, Legolas was quite alarmed to note that the elder elf had a rising fever.

_Ai.__ Not a relapse_, Legolas thought, and started to rouse his brother. "Kel? Wake up, please."

Confused, Keldarion blinked to awareness. "Wh…what? Is it…time to move?

"No, not yet. The sun is still out and we need to wait for Gallard. I also need to check your wound. Your fever has returned," Legolas replied with an assuring smile, parting his brother's shirt to inspect Keldarion's bandaged injury.

"What do you mean, wait for Gallard? Where did the _draq_ go?" Keldarion asked as he looked around, wincing a bit when Legolas poked at his chest.

"Scouting," Legolas answered. Assured that the wound was not festering, he tugged close his brother's shirt and reached over for a water skin. "He flew off over an hour ago, to find out where Harodem lies."

"But I know where that is."

Smiling, Legolas wet a towel and began to wipe Keldarion's clammy drawn face. "Yes, but you are in no condition to give directions anymore. You scared me to death when you passed out all of a sudden last night. Your chest still hurting bad?"

"A little." Grimacing, Keldarion pulled himself upright into a sitting position with Legolas' help. Glancing at the big orange globe in the west, he added, "This terrible heat is not helping me any. I would gladly give up my sword for a long, cool bath."

"And I would give up my bow to get the first turn at it." Legolas grinned. "Here. You need to take some water." He gave the water skin to his brother before climbing into the back of the wagon, looking for some dried food they had purchased at the black market of Poros.

It was the same wagon from the marauders' camp. They had decided to drag it along, for it would help make their disguises a lot more convincing. Keldarion was posing as an ailing weaponry merchant from Haradwaith, traveling home with his two servants. As his wound wouldn't permit him to do much, he spent most of the time sitting in the wagon box and being navigator to Legolas and Gallard who alternately drove the team. His fainting spell last night proved that he was still far from recovery, causing their pace to slow down a bit even though they were all desperate to leave the opened desert terrain behind them.

"Legolas, Gallard has returned."

Alerted by his brother's call, Legolas climbed out of the wagon carrying a loaf of hard bread under one arm, just in time to see a proud golden eagle landed gracefully near Keldarion's feet. Both brothers then watched in awe as the great bird went into transformation, straightening and steadily growing tall, its wings shrinking and disappearing into its back.

Seconds later, Gallard the man stood grinning at them—sans the feathers, beak and talons. "You both better close your mouths before you catch some flies."

Legolas closed his dropping jaw with a snap.

"Show off," he shot back in response, handing a piece of the bread to his brother. "So, tell us. What did you find out there?"

"Sand and more sand, what else do you expect?" came Gallard's smart reply. Brushing dust off his bare shoulders, he took a seat under the shade next to Keldarion.

"Want some?" Keldarion asked with his mouth half full, offering his bread to the _draq_.

Gallard shook his head. "No, thank you. I've feasted on a wee snake on my way back."

The elves went still. They stared at their friend with identical bugged eyes, their faces turning green.

"Ugh!" Keldarion looked like he was about to gag. "A _snake_? Please, I'm eating here!"

"Gallard, you are disgusting!" said Legolas, screwing up his face until he resembled a prune.

"What?" Gallard was clearly flabbergasted. "I'm an eagle, mind you. I eat snakes for dinner!"

"Now you've just ruined my appetite," Keldarion put down the bread and refused to look at it anymore. He glowered at the _draq_. "What else did you see besides sand and…_yuck_!...snakes?"

Gallard's face brightened. "Oh, I saw Harodem. Interesting city. Dull, but very interesting."

"You did?" Legolas was excited. "How far is it from here?"

"About three hours ride, more or less. But hauling along this thing," Gallard pointed at the wagon, "might double us the time to get there."

"I've told you, Gallard. We _need_ the wagon. It's our prop to get us into Harodem without raising any suspicions," Legolas said.

"But why can't we just act as mercenaries? We won't need to carry with us this stupid junk!"

"Look at Kel. He can't even stand up straight, let alone ride. He looks more like an old man than an elf warrior. Not a very convincing mercenary he will become, I assure you."

Keldarion gave Legolas a dirty look, along with a sarcastic reply, "Why, thank you so much, brother dear. I'm very grateful for the moral support."

"Oh, you know what I mean." Legolas rolled his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. "Come, let's stop arguing and…"

"Who says we are arguing?" His two companions glared at him.

Feeling like pulling at his hair, Legolas sighed aloud instead. "Fine! We are _not_ arguing. Now, Gallard, help me break camp. We need to get moving the moment the sun disappears and the temperature cools down."

"Can I help with anything?" Keldarion asked, determined to contribute his worth to the group.

Legolas opened his mouth to decline, but then he paused. A slow grin broke on his face as he looked straight at Gallard's half naked form. "Yes, Kel. I think you can. Why don't you fashion a turban for our friend here? He needs to look the part as your servant, not an exotic dancer. I'll go find him a tunic and robe to wear."

"_Exotic dancer_?" Gallard's tawny eyes shone bright in his glare. "What do you mean by that? And what's so wrong with the way I look?"

Chortling, Legolas threw some clothes at his friend. "I'm not going to answer that for fear of sounding like a pervert or something. Now get dress! We have a decrepit master to serve."

As soon as night had fallen, the three companions continued with their journey towards Harodem. As Gallard had predicted, it took them almost half the night to get there. Legolas grew more and more excited when the grey walls of the city finally came into sight. He repeatedly flicked the reins in his impatience, yelling out loud to the two horses that were pulling the wagon to urge them to move faster. Next to him, Keldarion sat hunched in his blanket, looking haggard and exhausted. He had refused to lie on the wagon bed as Legolas suggested, saying that he was not ready to collapse yet. But he was indeed very quiet the entire time. Obviously, he was in too much pain to react to the racket around him, even when Gallard wouldn't stop complaining and cursing about the confining attire he had to wear.

"Shut up, Gallard!" Legolas hissed at his friend as they steadily approached the gate. "You can carry on with your grumblings later. We need to get past these guards first, and I don't think they would let us through when they see you twitching and jerking at your clothes. They might think you have a plague or something."

Through the opening slit of his turban, Gallard's eyes were glinting like burning gold as he glowered.

"I hate wearing this! I can't breathe!" he shot back, his voice muffled behind the thick cotton cloth. He was riding Legolas' black stallion alongside the wagon, leading Keldarion's white mare behind him. Sensing the _draq_'s disgruntlement, those two horses shied nervously, yanking sulkily at the reins. Gallard would have none of it.

"Stop that!" he scolded them.

"No, _you_ stop that!" Legolas hissed again. "Really, Gallard. I feel like jamming your turban down your throat to shut you up!"

Keldarion moaned, holding his head miserably. He wished he was a _draq_ like Gallard so that he could change into an eagle and fly far away from these two!

But they immediately fell into silence as Legolas reined in the wagon to a stop next to the guard post, just before the raised portcullis. Three guards had already taken position in the middle of the road to bar their entrance. One of them strode forward, a loaded crossbow at the ready.

"State your person and your business," the Haradrim guard said, his eyes cautious as he surveyed the team.

"This is Lord Meldor, with his two humble servants. We bring supplies of weaponry for Lord Movrak," Legolas replied, roughening his voice as he slipped into the tongue of Harad.

"Lord Meldor?" The guard was quite skeptical as he exchanged glances with his comrades. "Never heard of him."

Indeed, no one ever heard of Lord Meldor. Legolas came out with that fictitious name only several minutes ago. Obviously, though, the guards knew who Movrak was, for they instantly snapped into alert attention.

"You've never heard of me?" Grunting a bit, Keldarion straightened and stared down at the man, hard. "Shame on you then, soldier! I was here when you were still suckling at your ma's tits. I help defended this city during the war and built it up from the rubble and now you tell me you've never heard of me? What kind of a Haradrim are you? I'm going to report this to the governor! I will even tell my friend Movrak that you are jeopardizing a highly confidential and precarious affair, barring us from entering like this. He will not be happy if his goods arrive late because of your ineptitude! Bah! I think he will pull back the endowment he's given to the city to pay for your salary or…!"

His face red, Keldarion broke off into a coughing fit. He clutched at his chest, looking to the world as if he was in great pain—which indeed he was.

"Can't you see? My Lord Meldor is not well," Legolas harshly said, wrapping a supporting arm around his brother. "He has been injured in an attack. He needs medical attention immediately. We cannot linger. Lord Movrak will have your head if you let his good friend die out here!"

"We…we need to inspect the wagon before we can let you through…uh…Sir," the guard added in an afterthought. He sounded quite apologetic. "That is, if you don't mind."

"Of course, I _do_ mind! But…" Legolas shrugged. "Oh, well. Procedure is still procedure. Go ahead, check inside. But make it quick! And don't touch any of those weapons! Lord Movrak will not be pleased if he has to pay for broken goods."

The guards scrambled to the back of the wagon and made a quick look. Satisfied with their findings, they returned to the front. "You may pass, Sir."

"Thank you." Legolas nodded. Then with a flick of his wrist, he snapped the reins and the team moved through the gate.

As they ambled down the street into the heart of the city, leaving the guard post further and further behind them, Gallard glanced at Keldarion and broke his silence, "_Suckling at your ma's tits_?"

Legolas snorted in amusement and looked at his brother. "If Aislinn hears that, she is bound to wash your mouth with lye soap!"

Keldarion managed a weak grin. "Don't tell her I said that, or she will wash _other _part of me with lye soap!"

"That gives me all the more reason to tell her!" Legolas guffawed. When his laughter died down, he asked his brother, "All right. Where are we headed?"

"We need to find a place to stay. Turn left here." Keldarion nodded. "I know a boarding house that offers nice sleeping arrangements, as well as a clean barn to stable our mounts and store this stupid wagon."

Legolas followed Keldarion's further directions, guiding the team down well-lit streets between the double-storey town houses and shops. The people were still busy at their businesses, rushing importantly this way and that as if the entire affair was conducted in broad daylight.

"Hmm. The Haradrim are nocturnal kind of humans, aren't they?" Legolas remarked with raised eyebrows as he watched some small children playing noisily in an alley.

"Not really. They do sleep at night, but they also find it best to carry on with their activities after the sun goes down. Less of sunstroke and dehydration that way," Keldarion said, his voice sounded a bit strain.

Legolas stared worriedly at his brother. "Are you all right, Kel?"

"The wound is throbbing again." Keldarion ground his teeth against the pain. "I can hold on, though. Take this street. If I remember it correctly, there's a bakery about twenty yards ahead. Turn down the alley in front of the bakery and you'll see a tavern. The boardinghouse is above the tavern, you can't miss it."

"What does it call?" Gallard asked to make Keldarion keep talking.

"The tavern?" At this, the elder prince chuckled, his voice slightly slurred. "You are not going to believe this. They call it 'Minas Tirith'."

Legolas snapped his head so fast he thought he had a whiplash.

"They call it _what_!" he cried out incredulously, staring open-mouthed at his brother.

Keldarion did not answer. He was already passed out cold.

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"Move it, you little scum! Pick up your ass and start making yourself useful!"

The whip came again, hitting Eldarion across his shoulder blades. The boy hissed, willing himself not to succumb to the pain. Sand and pebbles felt warm under his cheek. The thick dust of the quarry was heavy in his sweat-soaked hair. The sun felt hot against his unprotected back. A dark haze was clouding his vision while his ears rang, causing him to lose equilibrium for a moment.

He blinked.

Slowly, his teeth gritting, Eldarion pushed himself onto all fours and staggered to his feet, his shackles rattled aloud from his clumsy movements. And then, his grey-blue eyes flashing, the crown prince of Gondor glared defiantly at the tall, burly Haradrim in front of him.

"What are you looking at, boy? You want another taste of this?" Movrak's head guardsman sneered, lifting the whip.

Eldarion didn't answer. His welts-filled back was screaming with agony, but still he stood without flinching, meeting the other man eye for eye.

None of Movrak's guardsmen scared him. _None_. These men were just stupid, brawny lots who follow the merchant's orders because they were paid handsomely to do so. But this particular guardsman—Eldarion named him 'Baldy' due to his shining, bald head—irked him the most. Always quick with his whip, Baldy love to lash at the slaves for no apparent reasons. He liked to hear their scream of anguish. The slaves' begging for mercy was like music to his ears. Be it young children or women or elderly men, no one was spared his abuse. In short, Baldy was a complete sadist.

Eldarion had grown tired of Baldy's sick game. Only just now, the young prince had exploded. He had tackled Baldy to the ground when the man happily punished a slave woman for taking a rest without permission. Because of his interference, Eldarion had received a black eye and more welts on his back, but he felt damn good about it. Now Baldy and Movrak knew that not _all_ the slaves were afraid of their master, and that not all the slaves would fully submit to this disgusting circumstance.

"Now back to work!" Baldy now yelled, throwing him the pick-axe. Only Eldarion's quick reflex enabled him to catch the tool before it could impale his foot.

"And no more heroic stuffs!" the bald man warned. "You disturb me again, and I'll gladly put you under the rock!"

'The Rock', Eldarion learned, was a kind of punishment where a disobedient slave had to be tied face-up on the ground before a large, heavy boulder was placed on top of them. Suffering the weight for long hours was one thing, but suffering the afternoon heat without being given any water was another. Most often than not, the slaves were dead even before they were released from their tortured state.

Movrak didn't think much about the lost of his slaves due to his guardsmen's cruelties. If he lost one, he could get another at such a low price. Easy replacement. Slavery was indeed a profitable venture in this part of Middle-earth. Life was cheap.

Eldarion grew sick just thinking about it.

After almost a week living among them, the prince found out that most of the slaves were fervently praying to be sold off in the city's slave market. They would rather have a new master than spending another day within Movrak's clutches, sweating to death under the sun as they labored in this marble quarry of his, which was only a league outside the city gate. They commuted on foot everyday, leaving Movrak's keep at daybreak and returned to it at dusk. No one dared to escape during the long walk, though, for they knew they had nowhere else to go. Even if they managed to break free, the cruel desert would definitely kill them first.

Eldarion himself had one particular mission to accomplish. Movrak had vowed to break him, in physical and spirit. Eldarion would see him fail.

And in the end, when opportunity arose, Eldarion would kill him.

**TBC….**


	13. Chapter 13

**Karriya**** I haven't read '_The Da Vinci Code_' or '_Angels and Demon_' yet, but I definitely _will_! They said the books are awesome! Right now, I'm finishing Melanie Rawn's '_Dragon Prince'_ and '_Dragon Star'_ series. They are so incredible I can't put them down!**

**Beginning-end-314 :**** You're also having exams? Good luck and do well, mellon!**

**Saerwen**** Yep. I'm thirty. Well, _almost_ thirty. Watch out for my birthday this October 1st! And the tomb is going to appear very, very soon. Err…not that I mean that the tomb is for _me_, get my meaning? LOL!**

**Lomeril**** Glad to know that you enjoy '_Triple Jeopardy'_. In this chapter, Legolas will prove to us how infuriatingly stubborn he can get! Which, of course, would only drag him into some undesirable circumstances…**

**Theo darkstar**** You have been sick too? Oh, poor you. Welcome to the club, mate!**

**Leralonde**** Mary aka Linwe is your sister? Cool! Can you please tell her that I love '_Crashed and Burned'_ and can't wait to finish reading it? Thank you so much!**

**Ceyxa**** Exactly. Eldarion is too young to harbor such vengeance. But don't worry. Legolas will be there to save the day…or maybe it's the other way around? Who knows?**

**Abbicat16**** You were _grounded_? Whatever did you do, girl? Elope with your sweetheart, like Darion did? He he he…**

**Seylin**** No doubt about it. You _are_ special.**

**Delano**** Indeed, Darion is so like Aragorn. Like father like son. Oh, good luck in your exam too!**

**Sailor Elf :**** All right, all right! Kel is up and at it! But…can I keep him bedridden for just one more chapter? _Please_?**

**Rutu**** It was brilliant of you to read my responses to the reviewers. Got some hints, eh? Very good. I'll try not to give away more of them after this. LOL! Just kidding. Oh, I do want to update once in two days like I used to. I really do. I can't promise you this, but I will do my very best, okay? On another note, keep pestering your friend to read '_To Become A Warrior_'. I so love pesty readers. Har har!**

**Elemmr**** Look! I'm typing so fast my fingers are flying over the keyboard! Yippee!**

**Hello, everyone. I'm back after over a week of absence. Keldarion was not the only one who gets a relapse. So did I. Yikes! It was a nightmare! Thank God the viruses are all dead so now I can sit up straight without feeling as if the world is tilting on its axis! Gosh, that was terrible, I tell you. **

**Now, to those of you who had informed meof the _interesting_ discussionsaboutmy fics that's still going on in the Godawful Fanfiction. net , thank you _so_ much for your concern. I greatly appreciate it. I've been there, and read what the people said about my godawful writing, and I understand why some of you would think that they are mean. But, hey, they are just doing their things, guys. Let them at it. They just want to vent some spleen, that's all. We all do that sometimes. I'm not hurt or anything by what they said. Definitely, no hard feelings. In fact, I had some good laughs myself while reading through those threads. Truly, they are very…uh… enlightening. **

**Without wasting more time, here's the next chappie.**

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"The food here is lousy," Legolas complained as he stepped back into the room, carrying with him a lunch tray that the boardinghouse maid had left in front of their door.

Sitting comfortably in one of the twin beds, his back propped by a couple of pillows, Keldarion gave his brother a crooked smile. "It's not so bad, considering what we have been eating in the desert. I think I have loosened a few teeth from gnawing on those hard breads for days. Hmm. That smells nice. What have you got there?"

Legolas made a face at the meals properly set on the tray. "Rice porridge, mixed with carrots and potatoes. A food fit for the invalid."

Keldarion chuckled. "Right. And this invalid is very hungry. Give that to me."

Sitting next to his brother on the bed, Legolas carefully placed the tray across Keldarion's lap. "Don't eat just yet. Let me put some crushed _herbendea_ in it."

With a mock glare, Keldarion responded, "You are taking this doctoring a bit too much, Legolas. I have no need for the herb anymore."

"Oh, you think so?" Legolas challengingly cocked his eyebrows at his brother. "Last night, you were so out of it that we had to carry you up the stairs. You then turned highly feverish, shaking the entire bed frame when you shivered uncontrollably. Next, you trashed about under the covers like a monkey on fire. You even kicked me over until I tumbled to the floor! And when I tried to feed you some tonic, you socked me square in the face. See this?"

Legolas pointed at the bluish lump under his left eye before he added, "On top of all that, you then threw up all over me, you nut-head!"

Turning bright red from tightly controlled mirth, Keldarion bit his lower lip to prevent himself from laughing out loud. He looked the other way, finding it extremely funny to watch the comical expression on his brother's face. He actually _did_ feel sorry for Legolas. His younger brother looked a bit wan and exhausted after spending the entire night watching over him.

Keldarion couldn't remember much of what had happened after arriving at the boarding house, except for the searing heat that had ravaged his body and how Legolas had worked diligently to bring the fever down by repeatedly giving him a sponge bath. Keldarion also recalled the worried expression on Gallard's face as the _draq_ hovered in the background, preparing to jump to do Legolas' bidding. But the thing that Keldarion remembered with the most clarity was getting awfully sick, right onto his brother's lap. Extreme nausea was the usual side-effect of the _herbendea_ tonic as it purged the poison out of one's system.

_Oh, yes._ Keldarion chuckled. No way was he going to forget _that_ episode. Legolas had turned as green as he was!

"What are you laughing at?" the younger elf demanded.

"N…no…nothing." Keldarion faked his escaped giggles by coughing with full relish, one hand grasping his injured chest. "I wasn't laughing. I just got something stuck in my throat."

Legolas gave him a skeptic stare, not believing a word. But then he shrugged and turned his attention back to the porridge. He sprinkled some of the dried healing leaves into Keldarion's bowl before stirring it with a spoon.

"There you go. Eat to your heart's content," he said, handing the spoon to his brother. "I hope the _herbendea_ will ultimately kill off whatever poison left in you."

"It had done its work from the very first dose you gave me last night. So stop worrying. I feel fine already," Keldarion said, taking a bite of his porridge.

"I should have known that the arrow was poisoned. I was too focused on the cut in you shoulder. If I had made you drink the tonic sooner, the poison would have died off and you wouldn't have been in so much pain and discomfort during the entire journey here. I'm sorry, Kel. I wasn't thinking."

Keldarion quickly swallowed and gazed fondly at his brother. "Enough with that kind of talk, brat. You know you're the reason that I'm still breathing. I would be long dead if not for your care. So forget about what might have been and let's focus on what's ahead of us. We need to plan a way to get into Movrak's keep and make contact with Darion. But first, where did Gallard said he went off to? I was still asleep when he took off."

"He went searching for his lunch. The food here doesn't agree with his diet." Legolas picked up his own bowl. Stirring the lumpy gruel with his spoon, he sighed. "Yuck. The food here doesn't even agree with _my_ diet."

"Oh, quit whining and start eating already. You are never so finicky about your meal. Why start now?" Keldarion advised, his eyes rolling.

"I'm thinking of going across the street to get something from the bakery."

"No!" Keldarion all but shouted.

That caused Legolas to jump in his seat. He blinked at his brother. "Why not?"

"You are not to go out there without me." Keldarion wagged a warning finger in front of his brother's face. "You don't know this city. _I_ do. You don't know what lurks in its alleys or behind the walls. Besides, some of the people are still smarted by their loss in the War. They won't treat you nice if they know that you are an elf, and a good friend to King Elessar no less."

"I know that. That's why I shall wear that stupid turban. They won't see my ears or my hair."

"But they will see your eyes. The color is so unnatural for any man around here. They will instantly know that you are an impostor."

"But the guards at the gate never noticed them last night. Even the manager of this boarding house didn't give me much attention when I asked him for a room."

"That's because it was dark. And the man at the front desk is colorblind. He doesn't know which is green or blue or red, trust me. Besides, everything happened so fast last night. Who would have the time to care what your eyes look like then? A good thing we hid our glow, though. If we were back at home, with that golden hair and silver eyes of yours, you could have been glowing bright like a beacon! Now let's just sit tight here and not attract any unwanted attention to ourselves."

Legolas scowled at his brother. "Kel, you are making a big fuss over nothing. All I intend to do is get some pastries from the bakery across the street and rush back here, that's all."

Putting down his now empty bowl, Keldarion frowned darkly. "I forbid you. Now stop being so stubborn."

"Who the blazes are you to forbid me?" his brother shot back. "And stop treating me like a child!"

"Then stop behaving like one!"

Hawkeye suddenly choose that moment to swoop in through the opened window. After giving a brief cry of greeting, the eagle steadily changed into a man. Gallard's big grin froze when he sensed the tense atmosphere within the room. He glanced uncertainly between the two brothers, noticing the identical flush of anger that was creeping up both elves' necks.

"Err...Did I interrupt something?"

Legolas harrumphed in irritation. He jumped to his feet, grabbed the tray and dumped it—none too gently—on top of a side table. "Yes, I was just about to upend this bowl on top of my brother's head. Thank you, Gallard, for your _great _timing."

Gallard blinked, resembling more to an owl than an eagle that he was. "You're welcome…I guess."

"You want my porridge?" Legolas offered, pointing at his full bowl.

"No, thanks." Gallard shook his head, wondering what in the world the brothers had been arguing about. "I've already eaten. I caught myself a…"

"Don't say it! I still need my appetite to eat!" Legolas cried out, clapping his hands over his ears.

"…rabbit," Gallard lamely finished, staring at his friend in mixed amusement and bewilderment. "I didn't catch any snakes this morning. But rabbits are quite easy to find around here, especially amid the shrubberies along the wall of Movrak's keep."

"You ate it _raw_?" Legolas looked a mite ill.

"Have you seen an eagle roast a rabbit over a fire before?" Gallard gave his friend a droll stare, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Embarrassed, Legolas quickly turned away to hide his blush, mumbling incoherently to himself.

Looking straight at the _draq_, Keldarion asked, "You flew near the Movrak's keep?"

"More than that, I flew _over_ it. The place is highly guarded, but more to keep the slaves in than to prevent the outsiders from entering. Not much activity around there this morning, though."

"If I remember correctly, Movrak always starts his business during mid-day. He is a late riser," Keldarion said. "How about the slaves? Did you manage to get a good look at them?"

"Did you see Eldarion?" Legolas eagerly asked next.

"I didn't see him there." Gallard shrugged apologetically. He then added after seeing Legolas' crestfallen face, "But I saw him in the quarry."

Legolas' head jerked up. "What quarry?"

"A marble quarry at the limestone hill just outside the city," Keldarion answered. "Apart from a diamond mine situated further across the desert, he also operates that quarry to supply high quality marble to the Haradrim economy. Did you notice the beautiful tiles on the stairs and the floor outside? Those came from him, of course."

"Right." Gallard nodded. "His keep looks wonderful. It has these magnificent colorful domes on its roofs, and there is a large marble-paved courtyard in front of the main house. The place looks like a jewel from afar, gleaming brightly under the sun. Kylea would be extremely pleased if I could get my hands on that marble tiles for our tower."

"Good. Let's go talk about trade and business with Movrak. He would be very delighted to discover a new market for the fruit of his evil greed," Legolas said sarcastically. He knew he sounded unkind but he just didn't care.

_Eldarion__ is forced into slavery and they are talking about stupid marble?_

"We have to get Darion out of there," he continued, ignoring the odd look that Gallard was giving him. "You said you saw him in the quarry. How is he doing? Is he all right?"

Gallard smiled slightly, not offended in the least by his friend's earlier harsh words. He understood that Legolas was getting edgier by the minute, unable to sit still as he anticipated the first move to rescue Eldarion.

"The last I saw of him, he was punching the living daylights out of a guardsman," Gallard proudly said. "That boy has guts!"

"That's Eldarion, all right." Legolas grinned. "What happened afterwards? Did they punish him for it?'

"I couldn't stay to watch more. Some of the guards saw me and began shooting with their crossbows." Gallard looked disgusted. "I think they saw me as an object for their target practice."

The _draq_ was not actually telling the entire truth. The fact was, he had flown higher out of the men's firing range. Through his high-powered vision, he could clearly see exactly what Eldarion had endured next, but he had not the heart to tell the two elves.

"Don't worry. Darion will be fine," Gallard then added to ease the brothers' worries. "He is a survivor, just like his father. We will find him kicking and fighting, and that is how we are going to send him back to Aragorn."

The three companions were silent for a while, deliberating on how to proceed their rescue mission.

Several minutes later, Legolas spoke, "So, what's the plan now?"

Keldarion lightly snorted. "What? Can't think of any bright ideas?"

"If you are so awfully smart, why don't_ you_ think of something?" Legolas fixed his brother a narrowed gaze, bristling like a mad porcupine.

Forcing out a small smile, Keldarion lay back on his pillows and burrowed deeper under his blanket. "I will if I'm not having such a terrible headache. Let me sleep for a couple of hours, and then we will see what I can come out with."

At that, he turned onto his side to face the wall, giving his brother the view of his back.

Legolas instantly felt deep remorse. There he was, getting all nasty towards Keldarion when his brother was obviously still not fully recovered from his wound. He was so mad with his uncouth mouth he felt like jamming his boot down his own throat!

When Legolas glanced at Gallard, his friend had discreetly avoided from looking at the drama between the two brothers. The man was now heading towards his sleeping pallet which had been arranged in front of the hearth.

"I'm going to catch some shut eye too," Gallard said as he lay on his back. "I suggest you do the same, Legolas. There's nothing much we can do during the day. But at night, the three of us are invincible."

Legolas nodded his agreement. Instead of lying in his bed, though, he went to sit on his brother's. Keldarion still had his back to him, his shoulders stiff and tensed, maybe a bit hurt by Legolas' brusqueness.

As Legolas peered over, he saw the deep lines of pain across his brother's forehead. Wordlessly, he reached down and placed his fingertips against Keldarion's temples, massaging them gently to ease the throbbing there. Sighing softly, Keldarion raised one hand and briefly clasped Legolas' forearm to express his gratitude. No words were said, and yet everything was all right again between them.

Legolas kept at it even after Keldarion had drifted off to sleep a long while later. Across the room, Gallard lay dozing with a stupid smile on his face. Maybe the _draq_ was dreaming of more rabbits and…_yuck!..._snakes.

Due to the silence and the monotonous surroundings, Legolas started to grow drowsy. He finally left his brother's side to lie in his own bed, but a sudden growling in his stomach jerked him back upright. He groaned as he remembered that he hadn't eaten anything after all.

Muttering hotly to himself, he stood to collect his bowl from the tray. He put it back down when he realized that the porridge had gone cold.

_Tastes like a cow vomit, no doubt_, he thought with a grimace, staring unhappily at the lumpy looking substance. _Or rather, like Kel's vomit_.

He unconsciously wrinkled his nose as he recalled last night's incident. Not a pretty scene, that one. And quite a smelly one too! Luckily, the maid that was appointed for their room had been willing to wash the soiled clothes and sheets, totally unfazed even when all her three guests refused to show their faces as they conducted business and communication through a gap in the doorway.

Knowing that he must eat or his ill mood would return, Legolas rummaged through the saddlebags to look for what remains of their hard breads supply. He took one out and glared at it for a long time.

Keldarion was right. The bread had also loosened some of _his_ own teeth!

Sighing, he tossed it back into the bag and looked around the room, seeking inspiration. He was tired, he was hungry, and he was slowly going crazy.

_Hmm_. Legolas stared at the sleeping Gallard. _Should I convince him to turn into an eagle so that I can whack him senseless over the head before I devour him, feathers and all? I can stop being a vegetarian right about today._

Legolas chuckled to himself at that silly notion, and went to check his brother. Keldarion's sleep was untroubled. He looked serene and content, and would stay so for another hour before waking up.

His decision made, Legolas picked up his turban from the dresser and wound it around his head, the way Keldarion had taught him. Next, he tied a purse to his belt and slipped a dagger into his right boot before he knelt down near Gallard, gently shaking the _draq_'s shoulder.

"Wh…what?" Gallard asked blearily, still half asleep.

"I'm going out for a short while," Legolas whispered so as not to awake his brother. "Keep watch over Kel for me."

"Huh?"

Legolas repeated what he had said, adding that he planned to go to the bakery to get some food.

Yawning widely, Gallard nodded. "Good. Get something for me too."

"But you told us you have eaten!"

"That's my first lunch. _This_ is for my second lunch." He promptly fell back to sleep.

The elf stared incredulously at his friend, surprised that the _draq's_ stomach was not so different compared to certain hobbits that he knew. Shrugging, he then rose to his feet and silently slipped out of the room, locking the door behind him.

The hallway was deserted. The maids and the boardinghouse's guests must be busy elsewhere, or they were just having a siesta to escape the afternoon heat. Assured that no one would recognize him in his disguise, Legolas went down the stairs, stepped into the small lobby, and walked past the manager's desk towards the exit.

He stopped briefly outside, looking left and right for any warnings of danger. Finding none, he started walking, sending another glance behind him. He did a double-take, almost stumbling when he got a clear view of the tavern below the boardinghouse.

At night, he couldn't completely understand why it was called 'Minas Tirith'. But in broad daylight, the reason was there for all to see. Thanks to a twisted but genius architect, the building had been constructed to resemble the white city of Gondor, complete with its miniature seven-tiered terrains with the tower of Echtelion on top of it.

Chuckling at the grim humor of the Haradrim, Legolas resumed walking, debating with himself whether he should inform this tavern to Aragorn. Knowing his friend, the man would only merrily laugh it off.

There were not many people in the streets at this hour, and those he passed by barely even gave him a glance. Most of the men were similarly attired like him, donning turban and cloak, but Legolas remembered his brother's warning and kept his gaze to the ground to avoid anyone from noticing the distinctive color of his eyes.

He reached the bakery without mishaps. His mouth watering, he stared at the assorted delicacies being displayed on the trays. There were five different kinds of breads, colorful muffins, pastries with various flavors, pretty little cakes and several other concoctions he didn't even recognize. For someone who had a sweet tooth, Legolas was in complete heaven.

He made his purchase with the proprietor in record speed, pointing this and that without saying much. Not long after, he emerged back into the street, now a proud owner of a sack filled with sweet buns and blueberry muffins. He had also bought a slice of orange cake that Keldarion loved so much, a kind of peace offering if his brother weren't too happy with what he had done.

Whistling softly, Legolas was about to dive into the alley that led to the boardinghouse when a commotion further down the street suddenly caught his attention. He paused, turned, and stared at the small crowd that was fast disappearing into another street around the corner. People were shouting, and some were laughing. He heard someone roaring about a slave trying to kill his guard, while another man cried out jokingly that the guard deserved it, or something like that.

Curious, his heart thumping slightly faster, Legolas veered towards the sound, almost running to keep up with the moving crowd. Maintaining his low profile, he slipped among the Haradrim, keeping to the walls as he fought his way to the front to see the cause of the excitement. When he finally saw what it was, his heart stopped and he nearly called out in dismay.

A young male slave was being roughly led along by two guardsmen. Shackled hand and foot, the boy didn't resist for he didn't look as if he had the energy to do so. His back and arms were crisscrossed with painful-looking welts, while his face was bruised and bloodied. Staring at his wobbly moving feet, the boy was defiantly silent.

And _he_ was none other than Prince Eldarion, the heir to the throne of Gondor.

**TBC…**


	14. Chapter 14

**Sarah**** There's a bit of what's going back home in Minas Tirith right at the end of this chapter. I made it especially for you.**

**Astalder27**** Tsk. Tsk. You're wasting your breath. When did Leggy ever listen to _any_one?**

**Theo darkstar**** You will get more and more and _more_ of them after this!**

**RMC**** Was that a cliffhanger just now? Mmm, yeah, it was. Sorry. I'll post cliffies some more. Leggy's angst will be around chapter 15 and 16 and 17 and…Oops. I have to control myself here before I get carried away!**

**Leralonde**** Yep, I'm enjoying 'Crashed and Burned' very much. I hope the author updates quicker. (Yes, you're very subtle. LOL!) Oh, right! The nakey lakey chapter! Like I told the person before you, check out chapter 15, 16, 17 and…Aw, shucks! I _do_ have to control myself!**

**Ceyxa**** How about both? He he he…**

**A NuEvil**** You got crosseyed watching the monitor? What about me? I got crosseyed _thinking_ about the monitor!**

**Manwathiel**** I don't think throwing breads into the street is gonna work in distracting those Haradrim. I think Leggy should throw away some g-strings. Preferably, _his _g-strings. All the girls and ladies are gonna cause a riot! Some of the men, too, if I might add. Err…wait, what universe are we talking about here?**

**Abbicat16 ****Oh, wow, I can just imagine the outfits; white silk low hip hugging pants (My, I can't breath!) that flare out around the feet (I'm sweating here!), white silk sleeves held up by two golden bands (ahh!), assorted bracelets all the way up their arms (fans herself), one simple hoop earrings (drools), golden eyeshadow and black eyeliner (faints dead away….).**

**Saerwen**** Remember the Christmas song? Okay, sing with me. _Let them flame, let them flame, let them flame_. LOL! You want to read 'Triple Jeopardy'? I've tried e-mailing it to you just now but the whole thing came back to me, saying that it the attempt was not successful. Maybe I got the wrong e-mail add. Can you send something to my e-mail, so that I can reply it? Thanks. Yes, I do get the ideas for Chibi-legolas fics from real life. You see, I have three little nephews and a niece. If I got _one _more niece, I will have a complete set of Highly Mutant Power Rangers. Need I say more?**

**Rutu**** I don't understand sibling rivalry, either. Maybe because I'm the oldest child in my family and always look out for my younger siblings. They are annoying lot, trust me, but when we are together—even though they already have their own families—we just can't stop fooling around like when we were kids! It's great fun. **

**Delano**** Why, thank you. Honestly, I didn't handle the GAFF all that well the first time I read the thread. But then, when I started thinking rationally, it's not so bad. Hey, that's life. I can live with it.**

**Bessie1 ****Yay! You're back! I promised you, there will be more Legolas' story as the sheltered prince after this. I just wish I had more hands to type and another brain to work out the plots so that I can finish this story faster. Ha ha!**

**Last of the Narain**** Baby, Legolas looks good in _any_thing. In fact, he looks smashing in _nothing_! **

**Kimi Raikkonen just won the Canadian GP last weekend! Is he going to win the US GP _this_ weekend in Indianapolis? I certainly hope so! Oh, i'm going to watch Batman Begins tonight! Yayyy!**

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Eldarion had not killed Baldy. But he really wished he had. The big, evil man deserved not just a long cut down his cheek. He should have had the pick axe rammed up his arse!

It all had begun not long after Baldy had punished Eldarion for stopping from whipping the slave woman. Eldarion was back to his station, chipping away at a marble slab, when Baldy had come from behind and whacked him on the head with the handle of his whip.

His temper already frayed around the edges, Eldarion had instantly responded to the deliberate provocation. Without thinking, Aragorn's son had swung up his axe, aiming for Baldy's throat. The much bigger man had laughingly jumped aside but, unluckily, miscalculated his steps. He had tripped on a loose rock and lost his balance. Eldarion had swung again, and this time Baldy had not been able to avoid being hit. The sharp edge of the pick axe had struck the guardsman square on his face with a sick thud.

The quarry had become a total bedlam afterwards, what with Baldy thrashing and screaming from the pain while the rest of the guardsmen rushed about to restrain the axe-wielding young slave. Eldarion fought like a man possessed, swinging his only weapon as if his life depended on it.

Strangely, though, the other slaves had not shown much reaction during the entire fiasco. Totally expressionless, they just stood where they were and stared with blank eyes as Eldarion unleashed his fury. They didn't even blink when the guardsmen swarmed the boy and repeatedly pummeled him to the ground. When it was all over, the slaves had turned their backs to the semi-conscious Eldarion and resumed their work, completely unperturbed.

Eldarion didn't know who he was angrier with; with the other slaves for not helping him, with Baldy for starting the entire thing, or with himself for losing control yet again.

Ignoring his ecstatic spectators, the young prince kept on walking. He then gave out a shot curse when his steps faltered, his strength alarmingly waning. After a league of jogging on his battered feet from the quarry into the city, with the mounted guardsmen yanking at his shackles the entire way, Eldarion was ready to collapse on to his face. His guards wouldn't let him, though.

Riding with a mad-struggling slave through the narrow and quickly congested streets could prove to be hazardous, so two of the guardsmen had quickly dismounted and firmly held the boy upright between them. Leaving their horses in their colleagues' care, they dragged their captive along as they pushed through the crowd, climbing up the path that led to Lord Movrak's keep.

Feeling dizzy and incredibly thirsty, Eldarion wearily looked up. Men and women alike were curiously staring and pointing at him. Laughter broke here and there as some of them enjoyed his plight. Through the din, he heard someone saying that he had killed a man, and that he would be executed for it. Someone else then said that they were going to cut off his hands so he wouldn't kill again.

Despite it all, Eldarion grinned weakly when hearing this. If he had no hands, he would be no use whatsoever to Movrak as a slave, for he could do no more work. He instantly sobered, though, when he realized that Movrak could still use him for one _other_ purpose, something that was so dirty and twisted it was beyond his comprehension.

Seeing red all of a sudden, Eldarion struggled anew even when he realized that his effort was hopeless. Growling angrily, he jerked at the shackles, dragging his guards several steps backward. Jabbing and kicking at the men, the young prince fought valiantly for release.

Swearing hotly, the guardsmen swung their massive fists and started hitting back. Seconds later, Eldarion was knocked unconscious. The guardsmen slung the limp body over a colleague's mount and rushed onward for Movrak's keep, leaving the entire crowd cheering and jeering behind them, thoroughly entertained by the show.

Except for one.

No, Legolas didn't enjoy it at all. In fact, he was feeling sick to the pit of his stomach. His eyes burned bright with tears of rage, his fists clenched tight at his sides until his knuckles turned white. If he had brought along his bow and quiver, more than thirty Haradrim would be dead by now. But all he had was a dagger…and a sack of stupid blueberry muffins.

He looked down at the sack in disgust, feeling like throwing it away in his mounting anger. He had already lost his appetite. His gut felt hollow, but no longer from hunger. Silently, he collected his composure and tied the sack to his belt, hidden from view beneath his cloak

And then, keeping his head down, the graceful warrior-elf slipped through the throng of excited people. Like a shadow, he disappeared up the path in hot pursuit of Eldarion, completely unnoticed.

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When Eldarion came to, he found himself lying facedown in the middle of Movrak's marble-paved courtyard, surrounded by Movrak's guardsmen. He couldn't remember how he got there, but the numb pain all over his body told him that he had been an unwilling participant. He groggily raised his head when he heard steadily approaching footsteps coming from the main house.

Lord Movrak was walking leisurely down the steps, dressed in his robe and turban. The merchant wore a smug on his face as he quietly studied the boy lying sprawled at his feet.

"Aw, look at you now. All broken and battered," Movrak chided. "Had enough, my dear boy?"

"I'm not…your _boy_, you bastard." Eldarion bristled. His teeth gritting, he pushed onto his hands and knees, struggling to rise. Slowly, he managed to stand upright, swaying with fatigue on his bleeding feet as he glared daggers at Movrak.

The merchant just chuckled. "Still have your spirits, I see. Good, you might need them. You see, you nearly killed one of my men, and that will guarantee you a harsh punishment. How about if I put you under 'The Rock'? Would that teach you something? Would that make you submit to me?"

"I'm not afraid of you, you dirty swine!" Eldarion yelled, leaping forward to hit Movrak but was quickly yanked back by the guards. "Do whatever you want with me, but you won't last until the next full moon, I swear it! I'll kill you with my own bare hands!"

Movrak had retreated several paces, a bit shaken by the vehemence in the boy's voice. This was not what he wanted. He had expected the boy's total surrender and obedience after a week of hard labor, bruising his body and pride, not this kind of confounding defiant rage. The boy's reaction both confused and fascinated him. Surely, Movrak had never seen a slave so fearless and proud like this one.

That gave Movrak all the more reason to conquer him. As a successful tradesman, he had always loved challenges. He liked to fight over obstacles to gain complete power and upper hand. His wealth and big influence could even buy him the city governor's authority. No one dared say no to him. No one was willing to give him dispute.

_Except_ for this boy, this tall handsome youth that proved to be his biggest challenge so far. Unused to defeat, Movrak would make sure the boy bow to him. He was just a kid after all, easy to bend, easy to mold. Still, Movrak might need to change his tactics with this particular slave. It was easier to catch more bees with honey, they said. And that was what he would do. Offer the boy some 'sweets'.

Composing himself, Movrak smiled kindly. "You haven't been inside my beautiful grand house, have you? Would you like a tour?"

Eldarion was quite taken aback by the sudden turn of events. Warily, he gave the merchant a narrow gaze filled with venom. "I don't want a bloody tour! Your house can go to ruin for all I care!"

Already expecting such respond, Movrak's smile only grew wider. He signaled a couple of the guardsmen. "Bring him inside."

A big part of Eldarion wanted to resist, but he was too exhausted to offer much fight. So, he let them drag him up the short flight of stairs and into the big house. The moment he was out of the sun, the young prince emitted a huge sigh of relief. The afternoon heat had been close to baking him just now. He didn't know how long he could have lasted out there. Movrak smiled at his reaction, and Eldarion almost smiled back, so dazed he was.

"While you decide whether you really want to kill me or not, let me show you my favorite part of this house," the man said as he led the way from the foyer and through a long hallway. He glanced briefly over his shoulder, chuckling. "You are going to love it too, I'm sure."

Eldarion didn't reply to that. He kept his face blank as he followed the merchant at a much slower pace, his two guards flanking him. As Movrak proudly showed him the interior of the house, the young prince tried to act indifferent. He didn't want to be impressed by the grandeur of Movrak's palace, but he couldn't help but feel some admiration for its unique architecture.

Oh, Eldarion didn't care much about the pretty chandeliers hanging over their heads, or the heavy colorful drapes over the big windows, or the gilded sconces and big paintings lining the wall, or even the interesting looking statues and busts that graced every corner of the place. He had seen better adornments in his own home at Minas Tirith. Still, the structural design of the building truly caught his interest. He stared, awestruck, at the high ceiling above him. He was now standing right under the biggest dome of the keep, and was mystified to find no rafters whatsoever supporting the massive structure.

_How can a vast hollow space bear the weight of something so huge?_

Seeing the fascinated look on the boy's face, Movrak laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Awesome, isn't it?"

Eldarion stiffened and jerked away his shoulder. "No, it's _awful_."

Though insulted, Movrak tried not to show his growing irritation. "Never mind, then. There are several other things you need to see that I'm sure will astound you."

"What are you doing, old man?" Eldarion harshly asked. "Why are you showing me all these things? If you are doing this just to impress me, then it's pointless. Never have I seen anything so dull and dreary in my entire life."

One of the guards raised his arm to slap Eldarion for his insolence, but Movrak stopped him.

"No, it's all right," the merchant said, his smile a bit tight. "The boy may speak his mind. He might find all these not to his satisfaction, but there is one place that I'm sure will steal his breath away. Come, follow me."

He led the way again, this time heading down a narrow corridor at the end of the main hallway. They came to a door and Movrak quickly unlocked it. Behind it was another corridor, darkened and stuffy, like a tunnel. The air felt slightly oppressive. Before they move on, each guard took a lit torch from the wall behind them. Lifting the torches high to light the way, they reclaimed the slave's arms and pulled him along, deeper into the darkness.

Eldarion started to grow extremely uneasy. _Where are they taking me?_

He truly wanted some explanation, but was unwilling to give Movrak the satisfaction to know that he was nervous. So he kept walking in silence, pushing one foot after the other. They were descending a rounded staircase when they came to an abrupt stop right in front of another closed door.

After he opened the door, Movrak ordered one of the guards to light the torches inside. As the room brightened, Eldarion was pushed into the room. He went into a complete stand still at what he saw.

Gold.

Lots and lots of gold. In the chests, on the floor, against the wall. There were gold coins, golden chalices, golden figurines, golden mailshirts, golden armors, golden blades…Everything was in gold.

Well, not _everything_. There were a lot of other riches as well. Diamonds and pearls glittered in their cases. Expensive oliphaunt tusks lay in a heap in one corner while a mountain of fine pelts lay in the other. Rare paintings and tapestries graced the walls, as exquisite looking artifacts stood proud on their pedestals.

Eldarion's head was reeling. He had never seen such amount of wealth in one single place. He didn't even know it was possible.

_Why is Movrak showing this to me? What is he trying to prove? By the Valar. What does he really want from me?_

"Wait us outside," the merchant curtly ordered his guardsmen, his eyes never leaving Eldarion. The two men bowed slightly and retreated through the doorway. When they were finally alone, Movrak slowly walked around, surrounded by his wealth and treasure.

"This is all mine," he proudly said, "Every shilling, every piece of jewel, every speck of gold dust. All mine."

"You brought me here so that you can gloat?" Eldarion snapped. "If that is so, you are just making me sick!"

His eyes a bit wild, the young prince looked around and saw the long blades hanging from their pegs on the wall. He made a move to grab one of them.

Movrak was faster. He yanked out the nearest sword and placed himself between Eldarion and the lovely weapons. "Tsk. Tsk. Silly boy. You really want to kill me, do you? Come now. Let's be reasonable. I may be a merchant but I'm no fool at swordplay. You are a mere slave, and still too young at that. If I want to, I can kill you as easy as I bought you."

"So you wish!" Eldarion ground his teeth, his temper boiling over as he cursed the shackles on his wrists and feet that hampered his movements.

Chuckling, Movrak gripped the boy by the arm and pulled him away from the weapons towards the far end of the room where several gold-plated caskets rested on a dais. Eldarion's steps faltered when he realized what they were. Totally bewildered, he stared in disbelief at the sarcophaguses.

"Those…those are…err…" he stuttered, pointing at them with shaking finger.

Movrak laughed, absolutely delighted. "Yes, they are. Those are what remain of my ancestors."

"You keep them in _here_?" Eldarion took a step backward, scandalous. "Among your _treasure_?"

"Of course. They are quite valuable themselves. Don't you know how much a hundred-year-old body worth these days? Priceless!"

Horrified, Eldarion gaped at the man in front of him. "You have a sick mind, Movrak."

"And why did you say so?"

"Have you no respect for the dead? They need to be placed in a tomb, not in your treasure vault!"

Movrak grinned. "Actually, my dear boy, this _is_ a tomb. I had improvised, you see. The space down here is vast, so why should I let it go to waste? Better use it this way, sharing my riches with my dead ancestors. It's quite overwhelming, don't you agree? "

Eldarion staggered backwards, thoroughly revolted. "You're sick, Movrak. You're really, really sick."

The merchant just threw back his head and laughed out loud at the boy's reaction. Still laughing, the man stood next to the largest sarcophagus and started to push the lid.

"What the heck are you doing?" Eldarion grew panic.

"I want to show you something. Help me here, will you?"

"No, I won't!" the boy refused. "Do your dirty work yourself...!"

"Push the lid or I will put you under 'The Rock' like you deserve!" the man suddenly shouted, his face livid with anger. "I'm your master, now do what I told you to do!"

Eldarion glared back in defiance. Then, with muscles twitching in his jaw from his resentment, he leaned down and began pushing. The heavy piece of stone slab moved on his second try, emitting such a high grating sound that rattled his teeth. He stepped back without looking inside, his face pale with dread.

"Come, take a look, boy."

Reluctantly, Eldarion moved forward again to peek inside the sarcophagus. There lay the remains of a body, just like he had expected. He saw the sunken face, the empty eye sockets, the grinning teeth, the blackened flesh, the hole where a nose was supposed to be, the…

The young prince quickly pulled back and turned away, unable to watch anymore. "Who…who is that?"

"My great-great-great-grandsire. An exceptional warrior in his own time."

Taking a deep breath, Eldarion tried to pull himself together. "Why are you showing his body to me?"

"Oh, he is not what I really wanted to show you, but _this_. Look."

With a slight grimace, Movrak bent over to reach inside the sarcophagus. He took something from between the corpse's folded hands and showed it to Eldarion. "Do you know what this is?'

Eldarion stared, transfixed. "It's a crown."

It was indeed a crown, made of finest silver and shaped into a smooth fillet that could fit the head of a male adult. The design was intricate, created by the very best of silversmiths. But what caught Eldarion's most interest was the symbol stamped on its front.

The symbol was in the shape of a white tree.

The Gondorim's White Tree.

Eldarion didn't know how long he stood that way, gaping stupidly at the circlet in Movrak's hands. "Where…did you get that?"

The elder man chuckled and he playfully placed the circlet atop his own head. "Did you know how Isildur die?"

"Isildur? The…man who d…destroyed Sauron that…that very first time?" Eldarion was stammering in his growing excitement. "They said he…he was killed by his own guards, fighting over The Ring."

"That could be true. It all happened hundreds of years ago, and I have heard hundreds of stories about the manner of his death." Movrak shrugged indifferently. "But do you know what happened to the crown he wore the day he died?"

Eldarion was completely numb from shock.

"You are wearing it now," he softly said, his head shaking in disbelief. "H…how did you come by it?"

Smiling proudly, Movrak took off the circlet and placed it back inside the coffin. He pushed the lid close before he explained, "It's a family heirloom. Somehow, it fell under the possession of my great-great-great-grandsire. Oh, you know how it was those days, always filled with lies and deceit, betrayals and murders. No one can prove that a Haradrim had killed Isildur _but_…a Haradrim now has his crown."

"But why show it to _me_?" Eldarion's anxiety grew, afraid that Movrak had discovered his true identity.

"Because I want you to know all the great things that I can give you, everything that you wish for; fine clothes, comfortable bed, tasty food, jewels, _everything_…if only you would submit to me."

Movrak stepped closer until his face was just inches away from Eldarion's. His gaze sharpened, pleased with what he saw. He noticed how smooth the young skin was under the dirt and blood, how striking the blue-gray eyes were in its furious glare, and how lovely the shape of the lips was. Whoever this boy's parents were, they must be a very beautiful couple.

Eldarion stood unflinching as he suffered the man's scrutiny. "What do you want of me?"

Movrak smiled. He lifted his hand and cupped the boy's cheek. "Be my willing consort."

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The man stood alone at the parapet, facing south, staring fixedly at the distance. Not long after, his wife joined him, looking as serene and lovely as ever. They held hands without speaking or looking at each other, immersed in their own thoughts but aware of the other's presence.

The late zephyr was blowing through their hair and tugging at their clothes. A flock of gulls flew overhead, heading towards the sea. The sun was making its descent in the west, giving way to the moon and the stars. The citadel sentry was changing shift. It was to be a start of another night, and tomorrow would be another new day.

"Two weeks," Aragorn suddenly spoke, "Two weeks now that our son has been gone."

Arwen clutched her husband's hand tighter. "They will find him. They will bring him back."

He nodded. "Yes, they will. But the question is '_when_'? I can't wait any longer."

"Have patience, my love. All will be well, you'll see."

Smiling, he turned to face her and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "How are our guests doing?"

She laughed. "Chomping at the bit!"

"They are still mad, aren't they?" Aragorn grinned as he recalled the reactions he had received earlier in the day when he told them about Legolas and Keldarion.

"They vow to put their feeble-minded—their words, not mine—husbands in manacles when those two brothers return home." Arwen was still giggling. "Lord Thranduil simply wants to ram some cow brains down their ears!"

"Kel and Legolas should have brought a company of escort with them," Aragorn stated, laughing out loud. "That would not have made their family so angry."

"Oh, I have something else to tell you," Arwen said, smiling mischievously. "Kylea just arrived."

Aragorn was so shock that he choked on his own laughter. Coughing and wheezing and thumping at his chest, he stared at her in bewilderment. "Kylea _what_!"

"Gallard's wife has just arrived with her troop from Tasqamaran," she explained, "She is looking for her husband."

He blinked. "But Gallard is not here."

"That's what I told her. After she found out that Gallard could not possibly have been in Ithilien while Legolas is away to find our son, she decided to wait here until he returns."

"But how would Legolas know where Gallard is?" Aragorn was highly puzzled. "The two haven't seen each other for months!"

Arwen gave him a droll look. "You're sure about that?"

He slowly grinned. "Right. Knowing those two, anything is possible. Somehow, Gallard might have found Legolas and Kel somewhere, and they are sitting together, having tea, right as we speak!"

Sighing, he wrapped his arm around her slim shoulders, pulled her closer, and walked away from the parapet. "Come on. Let's go smooth our guests' ruffled feathers."

**TBC…**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello, everyone. I'm so sorry for the delay. I didn't intend to make you all wait so long but a tragedy just struck my family a couple of weeks ago. My granny passed away. She was 89 years old.**

**Yes, I'm still grieving because I was very close to her. Sometimes I can even hear her voice whenever I sit in her favorite easy chair. I miss her greatly. It has been a difficult period for me, but I've recovered enough to finish this chapter (I was in the middle of this one when she suddenly died). **

**Like I once said before this, appreciate your love ones while they are still around. You don't know what you'll miss until they have already gone and never return.**

**To my beloved granny, may God bless you. You are always in my heart.**

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Crouching behind the rampart atop the wall of Movrak's keep, Legolas watched with silent rage as the scene unfolded in the courtyard below him. He saw a stout looking man, which he assumed was Movrak the merchant, swagger proudly down the stairs like a stunted peacock. He noticed how Eldarion had troubles to stand upright, cuts and bruises covering his body. He then almost leapt off his hiding place to the rescue when the guardsmen abruptly dragged the boy into the house after Movrak.

_What do they intend to do to him? _

Legolas was growing extremely worried. Knowing that he could do nothing but wait—for now, that is—he pulled back and sat down on the hard, gritty floor. It was pure luck that no one below had noticed him yet. He thanked the lucky stars that the keep's wall was high and with no guards about. Movrak must be very confident that nobody would be able to climb it from without, hence the lack of security on the rampart.

But Legolas was an elf. Give him a rocky wall with small chinks here and there, anytime—no matter how high it was—he could scale it up as fast as a monkey would a tree. Like child's play, it was easy work for him. But staying still where he was was another matter. Firstly, the heat was close to blistering so that he was sweating like nobody's business under his disguise. He longed to discard his annoying turban, but his golden head would instantly give him away, shining brightly under the sun. Like a beacon, Keldarion had said.

Remembering his brother, Legolas cringed inwardly.

_Ai.__ Kel will kill me. He will definitely kill me this time! No doubt about it._

By now, Keldarion must be insane with worry and anger combined. Once, he had pummeled his younger brother to a bloody pulp for causing him great distress quite similar to this one. Legolas cringed again when he recalled that particular incident, convinced that it would happen again in a very near future.

He had been so focused on following Eldarion that he had forgotten everything else. Now that he had the time think about it, he realized how stupid his action was. Not only had he directly disobeyed his older brother, he had also acted recklessly like a green novice. He didn't know this city, he didn't know the people, he had no weapon to defend himself except for the dagger in his boot, and he even made the mistake of not letting anyone know his whereabouts.

Well, Legolas _did_ speak to Gallard before he left, but that wouldn't help much. He had told the _draq_ that he was going to the bakery, not to Movrak's keep. Nobody knew where he was. He had no back-up and was literally sitting duck. If something went awfully wrong, he had no one else to blame but himself.

His stomach growled loudly, a sure signal that it was due time that he ate. Groaning, Legolas untied the sack from his belt and dug a hand in search of a blueberry muffin. After taking a brief peek over the rampart, he began eating. As hungry as he was, though, he munched on the muffin without the usual pleasure of savoring something sweet. In fact, the food tasted a bit sour against his tongue. His lack of appetite finally won over his hunger. He put the sack away after only several bites, feeling a bit sick to cram anything but water down his dry gullet.

Despondent, Legolas was bending to retie the sack to his belt when something landed near him with a major affair of fluttering wings.

"Bloody son of a…!" he yelped, jumping almost a foot in the air with fright. Clutching one hand over his wild thumping heart and his dagger with the other, he glared at the eagle. "Blast it, Gallard! I could have killed you just now!"

Changing into his human form, the _draq_ crouched there before the elf, grinning lopsidedly. "I knew I would find you here."

Sighing, Legolas slid his dagger back into his boot. "Good. Now be gone, before I accidentally break your bothersome beak."

"Oh, admit it, Legolas. You _are_ glad to see me." Gallard chuckled. He gave the elf a mischievous grin. "Your brother is very, _very_ mad at you, you know."

With a low groan, Legolas turned away. "I can figure that out myself. No need to remind me."

"The last words I heard from Kel when I left him were '_I'm going to tie that imp to a tree and let the ants eat him to his puny brain!_' " Gallard was chortling now. "Really, I've never seen Kel so furious!"

"Gallard?"

"Yes, Legolas?"

"Shut up."

That made the _draq_ laugh all the harder. Wordlessly, Legolas raised his hand and smacked his friend square on the forehead.

"Oww!"

"Be quiet! Someone might hear us," Legolas hissed with annoyance. He cautiously peered over the rampart, assured that no alarm was raised to signal their presence, and sat back down beside Gallard.

The _draq_ was rubbing his smarting forehead. "You have a serious self-control problem, you know that?"

"Stuff it, Gallard. We have an even bigger problem here. See that?" He pointed at the great door of Movrak's house. "I saw them drag Darion through there just a while ago. But why the house? I thought they keep slaves in the cells or dungeons."

"Maybe Movrak has other plans for him, who knows?" Gallard shrugged.

"I think I saw him just now. Movrak, I mean. He looks like a toad trying to dress up like a ringwraith. His face was uncovered, and I saw that it's the kind of face that usually gives me the willies. Not a man to be trusted, that one. Surely, he has something foul up his sleeve."

"He is a tradesman, my friend. All tradesmen have something foul up their sleeves," Gallard quipped. "What exactly is your plan? Stay here and glare at that house until it burns to the ground?"

Legolas gave his friend a sidelong glance. "You are _so_ not funny."

"Well, what are you to do then?"

"I'm going to wait, observe the sentry pattern, and figure out any breaks between them. When it's dark, I'll go in and spring Eldarion from this place."

Gallard gave the elf an incredulous look. "Are you dead serious?"

"Indeed I am."

"What about us?"

"_Who_?"

"Kel and me, silly. You know who." Gallard rolled his eyes. "Are you really going to just bust in there like a demented hero and rescue Eldarion all by yourself? Ai! Hazel and almond!"

"Hazel and almond?"

"They are _nuts_! And so are you!"

Legolas ground his teeth, holding tight to his rising temper. "Look, I will do what I need to do to save Darion, all right? Even if I have to do that on my own. Besides, Kel is hurt and you are…well, I don't know. You are just not dressed for the occasion. What's important is that I won't let Darion rot in this place even for another day after I've seen how badly they treat him. I won't! I simply won't, and that's the end of it."

Gallard's glare was like molten gold. "Kel was right. You _are_ stubborn _and_ stupid."

"Oh, just get out of my face, _draq_!" The elf waved him away.

"You should think first before you act, Legolas." Gallard placed a firm grip on his friend's shoulder. "What if something didn't go according to your plan? _If _you got a plan, that is. What if you got caught? What then?"

Despite it all, Legolas grinned. "Then I can depend on you to come to my rescue."

Gallard sighed. Loudly. "I was afraid you are going to say that."

Patting his friend's hand, Legolas asked, "So, will you come rescue me if something went wrong?"

"You know I would, but…" The _draq_ shook his head. "Look. Let's compromise, shall we? I fly back to Kel and tell him what's going on…"

"Whoopee," Legolas responded without joy.

"…_and_ the two of us will come out with a detailed rescue plan, a lot better than yours. All I ask of you is stay here quietly and don't do anything stupider than what you've already done, like rushing headlong into that house armed with nothing but your hard head, for example. Wait here till we arrive."

"_We_? Are you saying that you're bringing Kel here?"

"Yes. Believe it or not, your brother is so angry he recovers quickly from his wound. He is up and about, and is ready to break some necks—_yours_ is the very first in line."

"That's great news," Legolas dryly replied, relieved to know about Keldarion's improved condition but also anxious of his brother's impending wrath. "Fine. I'll wait here. Be quick about it, though. Something terrible might happen to Darion if we dawdle about."

"You should learn to be patient, Legolas."

"And you should learn to keep your thoughts to yourself," the elf retorted. "Oh, before I forget. Here. Give this to Kel."

"What is it?" Curious, Gallard peeked into the sack that Legolas gave him. "Muffins! Oh, I love muffins!"

"I thought you love snakes and rabbits."

"Those are main courses. These are for dessert."

"Whatever." Legolas rolled his eyes. "Take the bloody muffins but leave the orange cake for my brother. That might cool him down a bit."

"Fat chance, Legolas. When I left him, he looked ready to eat the furniture!" Gallard clamped the sack between his teeth. Through his muffled mouth, he added, "Remember, _wait_ for us."

Legolas didn't respond but watched silently as the _draq_ change form. Not long after, Hawkeye the eagle flew off, back towards the boardinghouse. Alone once more, Legolas prepared himself for another long and excruciating wait.

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It was already dark when Eldarion finally emerged from the main house. He was unconscious. Two men carried his limp form down the short flight of stairs, across the courtyard and straight towards a narrow entryway next to the guards' quarters. Legolas didn't need to be told that it led to the prison because, only recently, he had seen the group of slaves returning from the quarry. Like a pack of mules, they were herded through the entryway into their pitiful lodgings.

By then, Legolas had already grasped the general idea of how the sentry worked. Every half hour, a couple of guardsmen would make their round along the perimeter inside the keep, with several brief stops at the gate and the prison's entrance to confer with their colleagues, before heading back for the guard-tower near the main house. The tower was as high as the wall, but Legolas was careful enough not to let them see him hiding at the rampart. What's more, the darkness provided a good cover. He just needed to keep his cool the entire time because, in his growing excitement, his elven glow nearly burst out of proportion.

Unlike the town down the hill, Movrak's keep was very quiet during this time of a night. The slaves were all in their cells, and the guards that were not on duty were resting in their quarters. Movrak never came out of his house afterwards, which sat right with Legolas because he didn't want anything to do with that man. Maybe later. Right now he just couldn't wait to grab Eldarion and flee as swiftly as he possibly could.

_But where the heck are Kel and Gallard? They should be here already, _Legolas began wondering to himself as he peered over the wall to look at the city below. Gas lamps brightly lit the streets between the townhouses and shops. Like any other nights, the people were still busy at their business. From his position, Legolas couldn't see the boardinghouse or the 'Minas Tirith', so he could not determine his companions' whereabouts. Maybe they were already heading up the path, but he was not really sure because his view was blocked by the huge stupid dome atop the main gate.

As another hour passed by, he grew more and more restless. Sighing for the umpteenth time, Legolas' reached up to scratch at his itching scalp, causing his turban to stand a bit askew. He was getting tired of waiting. On top of it all, he was so thirsty his throat felt like burned leather. He needed a drink. _Fast_.

Finally coming to a decision, he rose to his feet. Bending slightly at the waist, he kept to the shadows as he ran swiftly along the rampart towards an open flight of stairs in a corner between the west and south wall. A man was standing guard at the bottom of the stairs, but he never heard the elf coming. A brief chop to the back of his neck instantly brought the man to his knees in a dead faint. Grunting a bit, Legolas positioned the man until he was sitting up and leaning against the wall so that he resembled a guardsman that was sleeping on his watch.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Legolas was about to make his quick getaway when he noticed the man's water skin. He snatched it from the man's belt and took a very long drink. His thirst quenched at last, the elf sighed gratefully and wiped his mouth, returning the water skin to its unconscious owner. He then made sure that his path was clear before he dashed across the yard towards the nearest structure, which happened to be the stable.

From there, he slipped between the small buildings, passing the smithy and sheds and barn, silently approaching the narrow entryway that led down towards the slave prison. To get there, he had to walk past two guards who flanked the entrance. Not a very good option, as he preferred to be invisible to all eyes.

Thinking quickly, he retraced his steps until he was back at the smithy. Under the thatched roof, the long forge was kept burning overnight. Though currently unattended, someone had taken the precaution to bank the fire, putting some kind of a steel barrier around the glowing embers.

Smiling mischievously, Legolas' left eyebrow cocked upward as an immediate plan brew in his mind.

It was pandemonium not long afterwards. The entire smithy had caught fire, and Movrak's men were rushing about to put it down before the flames could spread onto the surrounding buildings. Hidden behind a nearby shed, Legolas watched in satisfaction as they hurled buckets upon buckets of water to douse the blaze. It was a moot effort, as the smithy was already beyond help. The entire structure crashed, sending a shower of sparks and burning timbers in every direction. The men cried out and ran for cover, but hastily resumed their places to put the fire out.

Taking advantage of the total confusion, Legolas silently edged towards the prison. Like he had planned earlier, the doorway now stood unguarded as almost every man had rushed towards the smithy. Still, the elf moved cautiously with his dagger raised and at the ready, expecting to meet more guardsmen as he slowly made his way down the short flight of stairs.

After what seemed like an eternity to him, the stairs ended and he found himself in a short hallway. Even from here, the heavy stench of misery and despair was strong against his nostril, assuring him that he was getting closer to the slaves—_and_ Eldarion. Even when he nearly burst at the seams from his mounting excitement, Legolas forced himself not to hastened, never losing his caution and awareness as he made his way forward.

The hallway turned left into a cavern-like hall. The otherwise large space had been divided into four cells that had steel iron bars as doors. The smallest two cells were empty, while the largest one held not less than thirty slaves. Men, women and children alike huddled together as they slept. Despite of the great discomfort, none of the slaves even stirred, so deep their slumber was. They didn't realize that an elf was staring at them, one by one, as he searched for a certain dark-haired figure.

Not finding Eldarion among the sleeping slaves, Legolas moved on to the last cell, slightly hidden in the darkest part of the prison. Convinced that he would find the young prince there, the elf tossed caution to the wind and softly called out, "Darion."

No answer.

Meanwhile, above ground, Movrak's guardsmen were still busy dealing with Legolas' fiery diversion.

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"Darion."

The crown prince of Gondor swam from oblivion towards the surface. He thought he heard somebody calling him. But that was impossible. No one here knew who he was, not even his name.

"Darion!"

The urgent whisper came again, causing his heart to beat a bit faster. With a slight whimper, Eldarion struggled to rise but he was still too weak after the beatings he had received. So he crawled on all fours, leaving his secluded corner in slow and painful movements towards the steel bars that kept him prisoner.

"Who…?" the boy croaked. "Who is that?"

A tall figure suddenly emerged from the shadow. Like any Haradrim men, he wore a turban and a dark cloak with a long scarf covering the lower part of his face.

Eldarion stumbled heavily backwards in shock dismay, thinking that he had made a grave error. He seriously thought that Movrak had finally figured out his true identity, and that the merchant was trying to prove it but…

"Darion! Don't be alarmed, young one. Don't you recognize me?"

The graceful flow of elven speech stabbed through Eldarion's ringing ears, bringing him back to his senses. He dazedly watched as the stranger tugged down his cloth mask.

The fair face of his father's best friend grinned back at him. "Hello, Darion."

Thoroughly overwhelmed, Eldarion promptly broke into uncontrollable sobs. He eagerly reached out to embrace the elf. The boy was shaking so badly that his shackles gave out alarming noise as they rattled against the steel bars. Close to tears himself, Legolas returned the hug as tight as he was able to, crooning sweet nonsense while his hands stroked Eldarion's head and back soothingly.

"Legolas…" His eyes wet, the young prince stared at the elf in wonder. "How…? I…I mean, I thought no one would know what happened to me. How did you find me here?"

Smiling reassuringly, Legolas cupped the boy's face in both hands. "It's a long story. I'll tell you about it later. But first, let me look at you. How are you doing? Are you badly hurt?"

Eldarion shrugged. "I've been better."

Legolas winced when he saw the extent of Eldarion's injuries. "What have they done to you?"

"I was forced to work in the quarry."

"Yes, I know that. But this…this looks new." The elf inspected the bleeding cuts all over the boy's faces. "I saw them take you into the big house just now. What happened in there?"

"Movrak, the man who bought me, attempted to buy my affection," Eldarion said in disgust. "He is a pederast, you know. And he wants me to be his consort."

Silence reigned as Legolas stared at Eldarion in great horror. _Oh, no. Am I already too late_?

Still silently weeping, Eldarion bravely met the elf's eyes head on.

Clearing his throat, Legolas asked with much difficulty, "Did…did you agree to it?"

Eldarion snorted. "Do I _look_ like I agree?"

"No, but…Did he force you?"

Legolas just _had_ to find out. Elbereth knew he didn't want to, but if Movrak _did_ touch Eldarion, then—by the Valar—he would go after that man and castrate him and…!

"He didn't have the chance," Eldarion replied, looking vastly amused. "I kicked him in the balls."

Legolas blinked, and had to swallow down the laughter that was bubbling up his throat. "Good for you, then. That would teach him something."

"Yes, well, that's the second time I did that to him. I'm no longer on his favorite list. They beat me up afterwards. And tomorrow, I'm going to be put to death under The Rock," Eldarion said, looking very bleak.

"I will not let that happen, I swear it! They have to go through me first," Legolas whispered back, fiercely. "I'm here to set you free and take you home."

The young prince started to cry all over again. "Oh, Legolas. I…I've been such a fool. What have I brought onto m…myself? I've caused my family great distress. And father, he…he must be very displeased with me right now. I'm not surprised if he chose to disown me…"

"Shh…Darion." Legolas wiped away the boy's tears. "Now is not the time for such talk. Let's get you out of this place first, shall we?"

Sniffling, Eldarion nodded. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "You are right. Get me out of here, Legolas."

With a reassuring smile, the elf reached up for the lock. But then he cursed and bopped his forehead against the steel bar with an audible clank, his face grimacing with self-disgust.

Eldarion was instantly alarmed. "What's wrong, Legolas? Are you all right?"

"No, no, I'm fine. It's just that I had forgotten one _very_ important thing."

"What do you mean?"

Looking extremely sheepish, Legolas gave the boy a wry grin. "I forgot the key."

For a moment, the young prince could only blink at the elf, completely astonished. "You…you what?"

Legolas went utterly red in the face. He fiddled with the lock to hide his embarrassment. "I said, I forgot the key," he mumbled. "Now if I could only just know _how_ to pick at this one…"

"You forgot the key," Eldarion stated as he stared incredulously at his surrogate father, unsure whether to laugh or to cry. "And you don't know how to pick a lock?"

It might sound impossible but Legolas grew even redder than ever.

"Stop staring at me like that," he hissed, digging frantically—and unsuccessfully—at the lock with his dagger. "Yes, I know, it's friggin' stupid but I had no time to…"

"Who's there?"

Legolas froze when a meek voice suddenly came from the furthest corner of the cell. Eldarion also went still. He quickly turned around to look behind him.

A small young boy crept slowly forward out of the shadow. Torn, filthy rags covered his thin frame, while his face was smudged with grime. Pale and frightened, he stared wide-eyed at Legolas. "Who…who are you?"

"Err…" The elf was at lost for words. He turned to Eldarion. "I should have figured out you have a roommate."

The prince of Gondor shrugged at that. He went to the younger boy and placed a finger on his lips. "Shhh! Be quiet. We must not alert the guards."

But the little boy's excitement was too great to contain. He clutched at Eldarion's tunic and started asking rapid questions. "Who is he? Do you know him? Where does he come from? Is he here to save us? Well, is he?"

Then, much to the princes' horror, the boy threw himself to the steel bars and tried to make a grab for Legolas' tunic. "Please, sir! Get me out of here! I can't stand this place anymore. Please, sir, I beg you. Let me out. Let me out!"

Legolas jumped back, startled. He noticed that the slaves in the other cell were stirring to the boy's loud cries of plea. To his dismay, they also began to make noise.

Cringing from the din, the two princes stared helplessly at each other.

"Oh, crap," they both said in unison.

**TBC…**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello. Yes, I'm back. How is everyone? Better than I am, I hope. I apologize for the delay. My granny's death not only broke my heart. I think it killed my muse too. I got the most terrible writer's block you can't even imagine. I couldn't even make out a single line, so depressed that I was. **

**Anyway, I'm now back to normal. Well, sort of. And I'll continue writing so as not to disappoint all of you, o my faithful readers. Thank you very, _very_ much for those condolences and e-cards that you sent me. I'm so touch by your deep concern, knowing that you all care. Thank you again, and I hope no one has given up on me yet.**

**And now, after a very long period of waiting, let's continue on with 'The Incredible Adventure of Legolas and company'. (Someone's gonna get into deep trouble…)**

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"Uh…Legolas? I believe it is time for your backup plan," Eldarion said, gazing hopefully at the elf.

"Backup plan? What backup plan? I don't even have a _plan_ to begin with," Legolas muttered in rising anxiety as the slaves continued to cry out for his help and mercy.

"But surely you can think of _something_!" Eldarion started to panic. Pushing the other boy out of his way, the young prince desperately clutched at the steel bars with both fists. "And you need to think fast before the guards return!"

"Yes, well, I've already ran out of ideas." Legolas shrugged apologetically. "Besides, I can't think with all this noise ringing in my ears."

"Oh, Legolas…"

"I know, I know. I screw up big time, didn't I?"

"Then unscrew it!" Eldarion's eyes were huge and tear filled as he stared beseechingly at the elf. "Please, do something, Legolas. _Any_thing!"

Around them, the slaves' cries grew louder and nastier. They repeatedly banged their fetters against the steel bars, trying to get Legolas' attention. Some of the women even began to wail in earnest. It wouldn't take long for the guards to hear the commotion and come down to investigate.

Even though overcame with sheer terror, Eldarion still had the will to meet the elf's stricken gaze head on and quietly said, "Leave me, Legolas. Leave now before the guards arrive."

Shocked, Legolas could only gape at the young prince.

"I can not leave you!" he retorted, incredulously. "I will not leave without you."

"But the guards are coming! You'll be caught!"

Yes, the guards had come. The sound of their pattering feet as they rushed down the stairs was clearly heard amid the racket. Aware of the approaching guards, the slaves quickly quieted down and retreated hastily to their sleeping pallets.

But the damage had already been done.

Still speaking in elven tongue, Legolas told Eldarion, "Whatever happens after this, don't say a word until I say so."

"What?" The boy was flabbergasted. "What is your meaning? What do you intend to do?"

"Promise me, Darion! Not a word, no matter what happens."

"But…but…" Eldarion was stammering in protest, but Legolas was no longer listening. The elf had whirled around, brandishing his dagger in one fist and striding purposely towards the exit even as a pack of guards was streaming in from that very direction. The men briefly hesitated when they caught sight of the tall stranger.

It was all the time the elf needed. In one fluid move, he leaped and kicked, knocking over two men. Before the guards could comprehend what was really happening, Legolas was already lashing about with his short blade, causing the men to scramble madly for cover.

What followed afterwards was a complete chaos. The prison was filled with the sound of the guards' yelling in alarm, echoed by their shrieks of pain as they fell under the unexpected attack. Armed with cudgels and swords, they tried to give fight but the unknown warrior was too inhumanly fast and precise for the men to keep up.

Eldarion's mouth dropped open as he watched the elf move. It was not his first time seeing Legolas in action, but it never ceased to amaze him every time he did so. His own father was a magnificent swordsman, but even the king of Gondor was no match to the elf prince's deadly gracefulness during a combat with more than five men simultaneously.

Ignoring the excited young slave behind him, Eldarion pressed himself against the steel bars, inwardly praying hard for Legolas' safety and quick victory. He began to breathe easier when the guards kept toppling to the floor, one after another. Despite the odd, the elf was clearly winning the battle. And he was not even shedding a sweat!

Eldarion smiled in relief when the last guard fell, twitching spasmodically from a fatal wound in the neck. Still clutching his bloodied dagger, Legolas frantically searched among the bodies. He was obviously looking for something, which puzzled the boy greatly. When he opened his mouth to ask, though, the young prince recalled the elf's earlier warning, so he kept his silence.

Legolas finally straightened with a triumphant smile on his face. He showed Eldarion the ring of keys that he had just found, taken from one of the dead guards' belt.

Exulted, Eldarion felt like jumping up and down with joy. But his smile immediately vanished when more voices came from the direction of the stairs.

Legolas heard it too, and he instantly reacted by throwing the keys at Eldarion. The boy was so surprised by the action he almost missed it when they ring of keys flew through the bars. He caught it before it could smack him in the forehead.

"Hide them!" Legolas shouted, and turned to face the next battle.

"Wha…?" Dumbfounded, Eldarion just stared at the keys. But he quickly slipped them down the back of his pants and sat down abruptly, blinking like a dazed rat.

If the situation was not so dire, Legolas would have laughed out loud at the boy's comical expression. Bracing himself for the looming confrontation, the elf was forced to admit, his luck had just run out. More guards were bursting through the entranceway, completely blocking his only means for escape.

And they were fully armed with loaded crossbows, aimed directly at his heart!

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"What do you mean, he's not there!"

"That's what I said. Legolas is not where I left him. I looked everywhere. He's gone!"

"But where can he be?"

"He is _your _brother. _You_ tell me."

Keldarion turned away with a growl, "Stupid insolent insufferable pig-headed impudent elfling! I'll wring his bloody stupid neck when I find him!"

"_If_ you find him, that is," Gallard muttered under his breath.

The elf prince whirled around and glared. "I heard that!"

The _draq_ made the effort not to laugh as he watched his friend's face, which had turned as red as a ripe tomato. A levelheaded person, Keldarion was normally slow to anger. But when his temper _did_ explode, he could even put his hotheaded brother and equally short-fused father to shame.

"I _will _find that stupid brat!" Keldarion vowed, jabbing down an index finger to stress his point. "And I _will_ wring his stupid neck and squeeze the stupid juice out of his bloody stupid head!"

Gallard started to think that 'stupid' had become the elf's latest favorite word. "Oh, I just can't wait," he quipped. "What do you suggest we do now? Stick to our original plan?"

"It's useless without Legolas around, blast the brat's hide. We must proceed with our backup plan."

Gallard gaped in astonishment. "We have a backup plan? I didn't know that."

"If you have a troublesome younger brother like mine, you _need_ to have a backup plan," Keldarion explained, looking vastly irritated. "No, scratch that. This is Legolas we are talking about. Make it _several _backup plans."

Gallard snickered, causing Keldarion to glare even more.

"All right, Kel, tell me more the about this backup plan. How do we proceed?" asked the _draq_ after he was able to muster a straight face.

"Later. But first, show me the place where that stupid, little…" Keldarion took a deep breath before continuing in a much calmer tone of voice, "Just show me where you last saw my brother."

Grinning, Gallard nodded. "This way."

Leaving their mounts grazing by the brambles, Keldarion went to follow the _draq_. Gallard led the way through a thicket of desert bushes, heading directly towards the high structure of the keep's southern wall. The well-lit path that went up to the main gate was not more than a hundred yards away, but no passersby could notice the two friends for they were keeping close to the deep, dark shadows.

They walked in silence for several minutes before Gallard stopped and pointed upward. "There. I found him crouching behind the rampart, baking his brain out."

Eldarion looked thoughtfully at the indicated place. "You are sure they post no guards on the wall?"

"No guards, trust me. Beware of a guard tower next to the main house, though. It is always occupied."

The elf nodded. He made sure that his turban was in place and that his sword was strapped securely to his waist before placing his hands against the rocky surface.

Gallard looked skeptical. "Err…Do you think you're well enough to climb this?"

Keldarion paused and glanced over his shoulder. "Why? Are you offering to fly me up there?"

"Now you are confusing me with Gwaihir," the _draq_ retorted. "Go climb, then. I'll be here to catch you if you fall."

The elf snorted at that but didn't give other untoward responses. Seconds later, he was swiftly scaling up the wall. Twinges of pain came from his still healing shoulder as he flexed and stretched for purchase. He ignored them, unwilling to let a mere arrow wound to hamper his progress. Still, he couldn't help but felt a bit surprise to find himself climbing as effortlessly as ever. The night before, he couldn't even stand on his own feet!

_Legolas__' tonic has worked wonders_, Keldarion mused with a shake of his head. _He had better be all right. Or else, I'll cram his own bitter medicine down his throat! Silly imp! I swear I'll choke that stubborn fool when I see him! I'll box his ears and kick his arse and…and…_

The elf ceased moving abruptly. He clung there for a full minute, trying to gather his composure. He worked to tamp down his anger but…By the Valar, what a feat that proved to be! He was so furious he could spit!

Legolas had gone too far this time. Not only had he disobeyed Keldarion's orders by venturing into the city all alone, he had also trespassed into the enemy's territory without any weapons to speak of. He also had the gall to break his promise to Gallard and vanished from his post!

_Ai! Talk about a hard-head! No one did it better than Legolas_.

Keldarion shook his head, wondering why he was not born the only child. That could have saved him a lot of nerve-wracking panic attacks. Earlier that afternoon, when he woke up from his nap and saw no sign of Legolas, he had jumped out of bed cursing and swearing—much to Gallard's great amusement. While the _draq_ flew off to look for the wayward elf-prince, Keldarion had to wait impatiently inside their room, alternately pacing and muttering and cursing and kicking at the furniture like a mad man. His temper had not improved when Gallard returned without Legolas. And, as if to mock him, his younger brother had sent him a slice of stupid orange cake, of all things!

Between him and Gallard, a quick plan had been quickly constructed. It took them a lot longer to leave the boardinghouse, though, because they had spent some time arguing about Gallard's attire. At first, the _draq_ had refused to wear their disguise, preferring to stay bare to the waist so that he could take his eagle form anytime that he pleased. Keldarion disagreed, saying that they needed to pose as Haradrim mercenaries so that they could venture into the city unmolested. Besides, he wanted Gallard by his side where he could see him. The elf didn't want _another_ misplaced companion on top of everything else.

In the end—after much cajoling and bullying from Keldarion—Gallard relented. By then, Keldarion was about ready to froth at the mouth from great frustration. Even though reluctant, Gallard had agreed to wear the hated turban and cloak while they rode for Movrak's keep. But as soon as they came near the wall, the _draq_ quickly shed off his upper garments and transformed into the eagle that he was, before flying off to meet Legolas where he had seen him last. Not long after, he had hurried back to tell Keldarion the bad news.

And things continued to go downhill from there.

Heck. Things had already gone downhill _long_ before then. They just needed to tumble down faster and faster before hitting rock bottom!

Based on past experiences, Keldarion believed that their mission was going to take a drastic turn, as it had always happened whenever his younger brother took matters into his own hands. His gut feeling told him that they were going to get involve in not one but _two_ rescue operations. He truly hoped that what he felt was wrong, but there was one fact about his brother that _everyone_ fully agreed on.

Legolas and 'trouble' mutually existed.

Enough said.

Sighing, Keldarion resumed his climbing. He pushed aside all the negative thoughts from his mind and concentrated on his hold and footing. He had not done rock-climbing for years, and he had a shoulder wound to boot. Elves might be agile and lightweight on their feet, but it still hurt like the very devil if you hit the ground head first.

Reaching the top, he pulled himself over and settled low behind the rampart. To his utter disgust, Gallard was already waiting there, grinning back at him like a fevered goat.

"Now what are you so happy about?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just glad that I have wings," Gallard glibly replied.

Keldarion was not impressed. "Are you sure you're a king? Or maybe you are a court jester. Which one is it?"

"Ouch. You wound me." Gallard smiled ruefully. He then turned all business. "All right. Here is where I left that stupid insolent insufferable brother of yours..."

"Don't call him that!" Keldarion hissed.

"Why not? _You_ did."

"I used to change his diapers so Ihave the right to call him anything I want."

Gallard blinked. And then he gave the elf a slight bow. "My apologies."

"Never mind." Keldarion jerked his head. "Carry on."

Stifling his laughter, the _draq_ continued, "Right…um…This is where I left your _charming_ little brother. He looked bored out of his mind, surveying the sentry pattern. As you can see for yourself, he is not here anymore. So where is he now? Only the stars know."

Keldarion peered over the rampart, his eyes sharp as he scanned the inside of the keep. He instantly saw the great excitement surrounding one of the small buildings. "That shed is on fire!"

"I think it's the smithy." Gallard nodded, watching the men below worked together to put out the flame even though the smithy itself was already beyond help. "Do you think Legolas had anything to do with this?"

The elf gave the _draq_ a droll look. "Do I really need to answer that?"

Gallard chuckled. "Silly me. Of course this is Legolas' doing. But where the blazes is he? And why burn the smithy?"

"If I knew Legolas' mind correctly, the fire is just a diversion."

Frowning, Gallard stared at his companion. "What is he up to, do you think? And why do I get this feeling that whatever it is _doesn't_ mean good? "

Keldarion didn't answer. He got the same feeling too.

"Oh, look! Something is going on over there!" Gallard exclaimed not long after as some of the guards suddenly went rushing through the entrance that led down to the prison.

Still not speaking, Keldarion stared at the scene with increasing horror. He knew exactly what this latest development meant.

Legolas had just blown his cover.

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"Cease! Throw down your weapon! Put your hands on your head!"

Legolas ignored the orders. He gripped his dagger to his side and stared unflinching at the guards who had their loaded crossbows aimed straight at him.

"Do as you're told! Drop your weapon and surrender!"

The guards were growing more agitated when the stranger still refused to obey. Clearly, the men were afraid of him, and for good reason. Their comrades' bodies lay scattered at their feet, never to get up again. They did not know who this strange person really was, but he was sure one very dangerous warrior. To have killed eight men armed with only a dagger was totally unheard of among ordinary humans.

Legolas smiled without humor. He was aware of Eldarion's worried gaze on him but gave the boy no heed. He knew he was cornered, and that he was only a breath away from getting shot. Still, 'surrender' was not a word to be found in Legolas' survival manual.

Then, to everyone's great disbelief—_himself_ included—Legolas boldly made a sudden dash towards the human blockade. Deadly arrows flew off simultaneously. Expecting the danger, the elf leaped high and twisted in the air, out of harm's way. Even then, his dagger was already slashing at the nearest throats.

Once again the prison was filled with the sound of screaming men. Legolas landed in their midst, kicking and hacking in frenzy. As he searched for an opening to escape, the guards quickly reloaded their crossbows. A savage kick from the elf caused one of them men to stumble against his comrades, spoiling their aim. The men cursed.

Eyeing the now empty doorway, Legolas made a quick run for it.

He didn't make it.

Something hit him in his left leg, causing him to lurch and topple hard to the ground. The dagger flew out of his hand and landed far out of his reach. He struggled to rise but the guards were already upon him.

"Say nothing, Darion!" he shouted in Elvish, hoping that the young prince of Gondor could hear him amid the racket.

Eldarion was horrified when he saw Legolas fell. He watched in dismay as the guards scrambled to pin the elf down, twisting his arms behind his back as he thrashed about for release. Then one of them raised a cudgel and swung it down towards Legolas' head.

Sickened to his heart, Aragorn's son could not bear to watch. He shut his eyes and hastily turned away, but the sound of the elf's sharp cry could not escape his hearing. When he dared to look back, Legolas was already unconscious and the guards were dragging him into an empty cell.

As tears of fury and regret ran down his cheeks, Eldarion slumped against the wall, shaking uncontrollably from fright and grief.

_Oh, Legolas, please forgive me_, he whimpered inwardly. _By the Valar, what have I done?_

TBC…


	17. Chapter 17

**Hi, there. Yes, I'm late again. I forgot to feed the plot bunnies so they refused to give me ideas. LOL!**

**Anyway, here's the chapter that some of you have been waiting for. Angst! The fun has just begun. There's more to come up. Stay tune!**

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"Kel? What now?"

Staring earnestly at the frenzy of activities within the courtyard below, the elven prince gave no answer. His handsome face was as stiff as granite, while his cobalt blue eyes were so intense they flashed brilliantly in the dark

Gallard tried again, louder this time. "Didn't you hear me, elf?"

"I heard you," Keldarion finally replied through gritted teeth. He did not take his eyes off the prison entrance, foolishly expecting to see his younger brother to show himself there and wave gaily back at them.

"Legolas has been captured, hasn't he?"

"I believe so."

"So, what are we suppose to do?"

"We wait."

It was not what the _draq_ really wanted to hear. "But what about our plan?"

"There has been a _change_ of plan, remember?" Keldarion growled in Gallard's face. "Now you understand why I said we need backup plans when dealing with Legolas? They are for situation like this, where predictable twists come about like worms popping out of the earth!"

The elf turned away, trembling with barely controlled fury and unrestrained fear. "Ai! Silly elfling! Blast him for getting caught! I swear I'll…I'll…"

Shaken himself, Gallard placed a comforting hand on Keldarion's shoulder. "Easy now, my friend. Try not to get so rile up. It won't do us—or Legolas—_or _Eldarion—any good."

It took the elf a full minute to compose himself. Turning around, he nodded apologetically at Gallard. "You're right. Let us keep a level head here. For the time being, the only thing we can do is make sure of what's really going on down there before we can act. We already have two stupid brats who need rescuing. We don't want to add two more to the list."

"I agree." Gallard grinned. "Then we wait?"

Keldarion nodded again. "We wait, and we observe. Something important might come up."

So they spent the next half hour crouching behind the rampart, watching the unfolding scene below them. The sleepy keep had been stirred fully awake by all the excitement. More guards were seen rushing about, either to tend to the burnt smithy, or to make urgent rounds in search of any other intruders.

Luckily for the two companions, none of the guards took the initiative to climb atop the rampart. Both _elf_ and _draq_ were spared from discovery.

For now.

"Well, well, well. Look who's here to join the bloody funfair," Keldarion muttered awhile later as a stout-looking man emerged from the great house, dressed in a night robe and chamber slippers.

"Who are you talking about?"

"You see that man?" Keldarion pointed. The said man was rushing across the wide courtyard towards the slave prison, with several guards dogging his harried footsteps.

Gallard nodded with a frown. "Well, who is he?"

Keldarion smirked without humor. "Who else?"

"_That_ is Movrak?" The _draq_ was clearly astonished.

"The one and only."

Gallard shuddered. "Yikes! He looks like a toad!"

"Figuratively speaking, yes, he _is_ a toad. Ugly, filthy, slimy and all other unflattering adjectives you can imagine on a man." Keldarion clenched his fists as he softly added, "And he likes young, pretty boys too."

It took Gallard a long time before he could speak, his face turning pale. "Oh, no. If he sees Legolas, he…"

"He will take pleasure in torturing my brother to death," Keldarion quickly responded. "It's a well known fact that the man doesn't care much about elves. There is something about our beauty and grace that irks him so."

Keldarion blushed slightly when Gallard sent him an amused gaze. He quickly amended, "Well, it is good-looking boys like Eldarion that grabs his carnal interest. And _that_ is a well-known fact, too. Many innocent boys have come under his power, abducted from their homes from all over the land before they were forced into something that their young mind still could not understand."

With a weary sigh, he rubbed a hand down his face. "Valar! I don't know what to tell Aragorn if his son has already been…"

The elf shook his head, unable to finish his musing.

"We must get them both out of there!" Gallard exclaimed, scarcely able to contain his growing anxiety.

"We will." Keldarion's gaze narrowed as Movrak disappeared into the prison. "Soon."

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At present, Movrak was not a very happy man. His easy slumber had been abruptly disturbed when the guards came pounding urgently at his door. He was a lot less happy when he found out about the burnt smithy. But what rankled him the most was when he was told that an _elf _had managed to break into the prison and killed more than ten of his guardsmen.

"What is an elf doing in my keep? Is he spying on me?" he muttered as he rushed down the stairs that led to the underground cells.

Nothing could have surprised him more. His keep had been intruded before, sure, but only by thieves who desired a share of his wealth and treasure. Of course, none of them succeeded to leave with their life intact. So, why an elf? And the slave prison, of all places? Now that was bizarre.

Something fishy was going on here, and he was determined to find out what it was.

"Damn the elf. Look at the mess he made." Movrak hastily covered his mouth with the sleeve of his robe when he came to the slain bodies of his guardsmen, arranged neatly side by side on the dirty floor. He nearly gagged at the high stench of blood which still oozed from the corpses.

"Get rid of them and clean this up!" he barked to his men, shuddering. "I can't stand the smell."

They rushed to do his bidding. One of them, a tall and muscular man with a mop of bright red hair, stepped toward him. "My lord. Pardon us for calling you down here at a time when…"

"Hush," the merchant ordered with an impatient wave. "Just show me the intruder."

"This way, my lord."

Movrak followed, hugging his robe to his large body. He gingerly stepped across the sticky-slick floor with a grimace, clearly disgusted by all the blood and the dismal interior of the prison. Not once did he glance at the slaves behind the bars, which was to be expected. The slaves made not a single sound to attract the merchant's attention anyway. Meek and scared, they just gaped in silence as their master walked past them.

The red-haired guardsman took Movrak to the furthest cell where they kept their latest prisoner. The intruder was still unconscious. They had chained him to the wall with his arms stretched high above his head. Both his feet were bound to the floor by another length of chain, keeping him completely immobile. The arrow was still buried in his left calf, with the long wooden shaft broken off. A trail of blood was running down one side of his face, only to drop soundlessly at his feet. He had lost his cloak and turban during the scuffle, so now his bare head lay slumped over his chest, allowing his long golden hair to drape forward and covered the rest of his features. His flesh, not to mention the tip of his pointed ears, looked as pale as snow.

Beaten, bloodied and no longer a threat, but definitely an elf.

Movrak was not impressed by what he saw. In fact, his entire being slowly burned with anger and hate. Without taking his eyes off the elf, he snapped at the hovering guard next to him, "What exactly happen? How did this creature manage to break in?"

'Red' gulped and began to explain, "The…the fire, my lord. I think he started it so that he could lure the watch away from the prison entrance. We were all busy at the burning smithy when the slaves suddenly created a big noise. When some of us came down here to investigate the cause, the elf just attacked without warning."

Movrak's frown grew darker. "Was he alone?"

"We saw no one with him, my lord. He fought alone."

"He _alone_ managed to kill ten people?" Movrak was incredulous, glaring at the guard. "How did you train your men, then?"

Red was clearly embarrassed. "Our men fought bravely, my lord, but this elf moved too fast. We never saw anything like it. He wore a turban and a cloth-mask so we didn't expect that he was an elf at first. We had to shoot his leg, or he would have escaped. And he…"

"Enough," Movrak curtly said. Red could talk and talk until his mouth went dry but still be unable to precisely explain the entire scenario. The real answer was to come from the elf himself.

"Wake him up."

Red blinked. "My lord?"

"I said, wake him up!" Movrak snarled in reply. "Douse him with water or something until he awakes. I need to ask him questions. I want to know who he is and why he comes here."

His glare grew fiercer when Red hesitated. "Come on, get on with it!"

The other man quickly turned to give out the orders to his two comrades, who quickly left the prison to fetch the water from the trough outside, next to the entrance. Meanwhile, Movrak stepped closer to the bound prisoner. He gripped the elf's chin in one hand and jerked it up.

If the elf were human, his strikingly beautiful countenance could have melted the merchant's heart. A face so fine and fair, so lovely and yet so masculine—something that Movrak always preferred while choosing his 'boys'.

But not on an elf.

"Filthy creature," he growled, and spat into the prisoner's face.

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Legolas slowly regained his senses. Something wet and slimy was running down his chin. And someone was speaking angrily to him.

_What's this?_

Numb, his mind foggy, he could not comprehend what he was hearing. Everything seemed so muddled up. He tried to lift his head, but it felt too heavy. His eyelids fluttered, but he just couldn't make them open, so jumbled his wits were. His nostrils caught the scent of blood, and that made him confuse.

_Whose blood? Mine?_

The angry voice came again, very close to his ear.

_Who is this annoying, ill-suffering scum of the earth that just can't leave me alone to my…_

A dash of cold water hit him in the face, causing him to jerk to full awareness. Gasping and spluttering, Legolas blinked rapidly to clear his vision—and found himself staring down at a scowling, chubby face of a man.

Movrak.

No one needed to tell the elf that he was in deep, _deep_ trouble.

"Finally, you awake!" the merchant yelled. "Now you may answer some questions."

Calling himself a thousand kinds of a fool due to his foiled mission, Legolas instinctively struggled against his bonds for some release. He then gave up, knowing his effort was futile and that it only gave him muscle cramps. Relaxing slightly, he responded to Movrak's words by returning a killing glare of his own. He noted with grim satisfaction when the man took a cautious step backward.

"What do you want to know, human?" Legolas softly asked, his eyes burning bright like molten silver.

Furious at himself for that slip in showing his fear, Movrak stiffened his spine and straightened up to his full height—not that it improved matters because the elf still towered over him at six-feet tall. That angered the man more, having to look up at his prisoner instead of looking him down.

With a curt gesture, he demanded that Red gave him his cudgel. The guardsman obliged before he retreated a bit to provide some space for the merchant to maneuver.

Gripping the wooden club in both meaty fists, Movrak edged closer towards the elf. "Who are you?"

Stubbornly, Legolas decided to keep quiet. He just stared at the man, his face now empty of any expressions. Movrak swung the cudgel high, smack across the elf's face.

"Answer me, damn it! Who the heck are you?"

Legolas reeled unsteadily from the blow, seeing lots and lots of stars. With his head still spinning, he gingerly ran his tongue over his broken lips. He tasted his own blood, sweet and metallic. His fury mounted with alarming pace, but he quickly tapped it down.

"Who am I?" the elf croaked, smiling crookedly at the man. "Trust me, Movrak. You don't want to know."

Movrak's eyes widened briefly before they narrowed to a slit. "You know who I am?"

"Well, who wouldn't?" Legolas managed a slight shrug. "You expect me not to recognize you when you are obviously the richest man in Harodem?"

Oddly, that seemed to please the merchant. His voice was less harsh when he asked next, "Why are you here, elf? What did you attempt to do?"

Legolas played the nonchalant passerby. "Oh, nothing important. Just visiting. I have things for dungeons, you know."

Movrak swung the cudgel again, this time hitting the elf in the stomach, causing Legolas to bend over at the waist, grunting with pain.

"Answer me, you stupid creature!" the man cried out, furiously waving the cudgel about. "Why are you really here? Who sent you? Are you a spy?"

"A _spy_? Wow. Fancy that." With some difficulty, the elf emitted a weak chuckle. "My boss will surely blow his top knowing that I've bungled my 'assignment'—whatever it was."

_Yes, my 'boss' will surely did_, he dryly mused inwardly. _I bet Kel has already blown his top ten times over!_

"You are not answering my questions." Movrak's patience was thin, and it was getting even flimsy by the minute. "Tell me who you work for, or I'll make sure you won't get any sleep tonight."

"Why not?"

The man was perplexed by the question. "Why what?"

"Why won't I get any sleep tonight?" Legolas tried to keep a straight face, hoping he was not overdoing it. Without being told, he already knew what was coming.

His eyes gleaming, Movrak gave the elf a nasty smile.

"Because _you_ are going to talk. And _they_ are going to make you," the merchant responded, indicating his surrounding guardsmen who looked more than happy to jump and do his bidding. He turned to hand the cudgel back to Red.

"I want to know his name, his origin, and his intentions. Make sure he answers your every question. If he refused…" Movrak shrugged. "Well, just do whatever you can to make him speak. I want all the answers by tomorrow morning. If not, you are out of my employment. You understand?"

"As my lord wishes," Red replied, his face grim

Movrak nodded and turned to leave. As he walked past the cells, he glanced cursorily at the slaves—and caught Eldarion glaring back at him.

The man halted, surprised to see the fury in the boy's steady gaze. He strode swiftly towards the cell. "Do you know about any of this, boy?"

Eldarion flinched slightly. Luckily, Movrak didn't seem to notice. The boy lowered his head and appeared submissive. "Why would I know anything, Lord Movrak? I'm just your slave."

All were quiet for quite a while. Tension was strong within the already edgy atmosphere.

Finally, Movrak smiled. "Good. You knew your duty then."

He turned to the guards. "Open the cage and take this dark-haired boy to my chamber."

Eldarion's head jerked up instantly, his face paled with shock and dread. He heard a smothered choking sound coming from Legolas, but that was all the reaction the elf gave. The boy understood that his friend was feigning disinterest, as if they never knew one another.

Legolas' face was expressionless, but Eldarion could see the dangerous glint in the elf's eyes that described his warring emotions.

"Err…my lord?" One of the guards spoke, looking extremely uncomfortable. "We…we've lost the keys."

Not understanding at first, Movrak frowned in puzzlement. "What did you say?"

"The keys—to open the cell doors. We've lost them."

Movrak grew red in the face. "What do you mean, you've lost the keys! Which guard that was supposed to hold them?"

"It was Derik's duty to keep the keys tonight, my lord, but he…" Red explained, pointing at the dead bodies that his comrades were gathering to be taken away for burial. "Well, the elf has killed him. We searched his body and the others but couldn't find the keys. They've gone missing."

"But that is ridiculous! They must be here, somewhere!" Movrak roared. His mood was so foul that veins appeared in the pale skin of his temples and throat. His eyes were wild as he surveyed the prison interior, as if the keys would pop out at his mere glare.

Slightly intimidated by the merchant's wrath, Eldarion retreated deeper into the shadows, trying to run from the attention. The boy could feel the cold steel of the keys resting against his flesh, right under his rump. He didn't dare take them out of his pants lest everyone knew he held the missing keys.

Still, _one_ person obviously did.

The small boy that shared his cell was staring at him with widened eyes. He had seen it when the elf threw the keys into the cell. He opened his mouth to speak, so Eldarion frantically shook his head in warning. Thankfully, the child obeyed and ran his gaze away.

Both boys jumped when Movrak suddenly banged at the cell bars.

"Open this damn door!" the man was yelling again, now kicking at the bars. He looked like a desperate man swiftly losing his mind, too carried away by his ungratified lust.

"But the keys, my lord…"

"Hang the keys and hang you all!" Movrak swiveled and faced his guardsmen. "Get the smith to open this cell. Tell him to break down the bars if he has to!"

The merchant went off in huff, grumbling and muttering about incompetent hirelings. Red shook his head but dared not comment. Instead, he sent some of his men to go looking for the blacksmith who was last seen at the burnt smithy, wandering among the wreckage.

Anticipation made the man smile as he walked back towards the prisoner, completely unconcerned about anything else. The guard didn't like Movrak, but he sure liked his job. The pay was good, and the excitement he derived from his work was greatly satisfying. Not to mention the one that he was facing.

Who would have thought that an _elf_ would fall under his mercy?

"All right, elf. Come clean with me," Red started, his hands upon his hips. "We would let you go if you tell us all that we want to know."

"Like Mordor you would," Legolas muttered with a grimace, for he began to feel to strain in his up stretched arms.

"Right. We wouldn't. I was just starting a conversation here." Red's smile only grew wider. "How are you holding up? Are you comfortable?"

"Go push your head into the cesspit," the elf shot back, glaring balefully at the man. In return, Red swung his cudgel into Legolas' stomach, again and again so that he could barely breathe. Bound like that, with his entire torso lay vulnerably exposed to every strike, he had not the means to defend himself.

Crying out in dismay, Eldarion leaped to the bars and hang there. He began to tremble uncontrollably, unable to do anything but watch his friend being beaten to a bloody pulp. He wanted so badly to come to Legolas' rescue, but he was stuck dumb with panic, not knowing exactly what to do.

The other slaves were avidly watching the beating, but none among them had the courage to speak. They were all silent, feeling quite guilty as they realized that the noise they made earlier had led to the elf's downfall.

"You are enjoying this, kid?" One of the remaining guards walked closer to the cell to grin down at Eldarion. The young prince quickly moved away from the bars.

The man chuckled. He turned to enjoy the 'show' himself but Eldarion suddenly blurted out, "Stop hitting him!"

Everyone went still. Red lowered his hand as he slowly turned around. "What did you say, boy?"

"Don't…don't hit him anymore," Eldarion stuttered. "S…stop. Please."

Red and the rest of the guards narrowed their eyes as they gazed accusingly back at Eldarion. "And why should we stop? Do you know him?"

Thinking rapidly, Eldarion tried to make out a credible answer. "He…he grunts a lot, like a slaughtered pig. I can't stand hearing it. Take your beating outside!"

The guards looked at one another, and burst into laughter.

Red shook his head. "Boy, you are pathetic. And for that, I'm going to make him scream for you before the night ends." He swung his cudgel again, and Legolas' grunting continued.

Eldarion shut his eyes and lowered his head, ashamed for being so helpless to aid his friend.

"Say nothing more, Eldarion," Legolas suddenly cried out in elven tongue. "Bring no risk to yourself. Say nothing!"

The boy quickly looked up. The elf was not looking at him but staring straight at emptiness. He spoke again, much softer this time, "Try…to get some sleep, Darion. Forget…what you hear. Just…just go to sleep..."

_He wants me to sleep? While they are beating him?_ Eldarion thought incredulously.

"I'll…I'll be fine…" Legolas' voice grew fainter.

"What are you saying, eh, elf?" Red ceased hitting and grabbed the elf by his shirtfront. "I can't understand you! Speak Westron!"

No answer. Another guard stepped forward and offered to continue Red's work. Red agreed, and handed over the torture instrument. The beating resumed.

Disheartened, Eldarion scrambled to the furthest corner of his cell and burrowed himself there. He clapped his hands over his ears to block out the sound.

The young prince of Gondor still sat there, rocking himself back and forth, even when the beating finally ceased a long while later.

**TBC…**

**I would like to take this opportunity to say how sorry I am to hear about the devastation in New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina. It brought to my mind the recent horrific disaster of tsunami that hit Asia late last year. I give my condolences to all the victims and their families. May you find the trength to carry on. **


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello, there. Miss me? Yep. I'm late again, but I have good reason. I just returned from working outstation in Penang. Boy, that was fun! **

**Now back to the story…..**

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"Stay here and watch the prison," Keldarion told Gallard, not long after they had seen Movrak storming back into the great house.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, wait here. I'll return shortly."

"You are leaving?" The _draq_ frowned in disbelief. "Where do you think you're going?"

The elf responded with a grim smile, "To follow Movrak."

"But that means entering the house!"

"Exactly." Keldarion nodded. "He is returning to his bed, I believe. If I'm lucky, I might be able to catch him alone as he sleeps."

Gallard didn't look too happy about it. "Do you think that's wise? I mean, you could get caught."

"I'll try not to," Keldarion promised. "Look, we won't accomplish anything if we just sit here and wait. After I've confronted Movrak face to face, I might find out what's going on with Legolas and Eldarion down in the prison. Only then can we act to get them both out of there."

"All right. If that's your so-called back-up plan, I understand it perfectly. But the house has guards, Kel. How do you get past them?"

"It won't be too hard. I'll find a way." As he talked, Keldarion patted his sword, making sure that it was still securely strapped to his belt. "Besides, I've been in the house before. _Once_. I can still remember its layout, and I know where Movrak's room is."

The _draq_ sighed. "I fear to know what you were doing there."

"I was a mercenary then, hired by Movrak to find and kill his runaway slaves."

Gallard could only stare in disbelief, his mouth dropping open. He had guessed that Keldarion had met Movrak before, but its reason had never crossed his mind. "Did…did you find them?"

"The slaves?" The elf nonchalantly shrugged. "Yes, I found them."

"_And_?" Gallard prodded.

"It's a long story. I'll tell you all about it later, after we've left this entire mess behind us," Keldarion replied. "Now stay here. And keep your eyes on the prison. Give me a sign if anything happens."

"Fine," Gallard agreed, albeit reluctantly. "Be careful, though."

"I'm _always_ careful," Keldarion curtly responded, as if insulted. "I'm not Legolas."

"Oh, right! I completely forgot." Gallard slapped his forehead in mock dismay. "Your brother is one loony elf, but it is _you_ who possesses the mother of all madness!"

Keldarion glared. "You know, one of these days I might cut off your bothersome beak to keep as trophy."

"Try it, elf," the _draq_ shot back. "And this bothersome beak will chew on your pointed ears!"

Keldarion wasted no time in replying. With a parting smirk at Gallard, he whisked himself off, running swiftly on silent feet along the rampart towards the direction of Movrak's big house.

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"Now, are you ready to talk?"

The voice sounded too loud to Legolas' ringing ears. He tried to ignore it, willing himself to fade into oblivion. But the fast throbbing in his head denied him the luxury. He was kept awake by the incessant pain, although just barely.

_Ai_. He hurt everywhere. He bet that he looked black and blue already. He knew that that his arms were still chained above him, but he couldn't feel them anymore. Hanging like a marionette, his weakening body felt damp and sticky with his own blood and sweat, or maybe some of his urine. To his utter chagrin, he realized that he might have wet himself sometime during the harsh beatings.

"Hey, elf, are you awake?"

That annoying voice came again. Legolas sighed.

_Why can't they just leave me alone to my peaceful slumber…?_

Someone roughly jerked his chin up, cutting off his thoughts abruptly.

"Wake up, elf! Cease your lollygagging!" Red was yelling, spittle flying. "Good. You have awakened. Now gather your brain and try to understand what I'm saying."

Dizzy and disoriented, Legolas blinked as if to clear his muddled mind. "Unlike yours, my brain is fully intact. Go ahead, human. What do you want?"

"I want you to start answering all my questions," Red said with a sneer. "So, are you ready to talk? Or do you need some more pain to loosen up your tongue?"

Legolas' vision was still fuzzy, but he could recognize the cudgel the man was holding up as a warning. He gulped, and ran his tongue over his dry and cracked lips. "I'd rather have some water, if you don't mind."

"I'll give you water. But first, tell me who you are," Red attempted to bargain.

The elf merely shrugged. "Sorry. No water, no talk."

Red shoved the end of the cudgel into Legolas' belly. "Don't play with me, elf! I've had enough of your stubbornness! Talk now or I'll shove this stick down your throat!"

Between painful coughs, Legolas managed to chuckle. "Go shove that stick up your ass, human. _Then_ I'll talk."

"Why you…!" Red looked murderous. He threw down the cudgel and reached both hands for the elf's neck. "Start talking now, you filthy creature! Or I'll feed your gut to the gutters!"

Legolas could do nothing but squirm and twitch like a drowned fish on dry land as the furious man squeezed his throat. As if from a mile away, he heard someone frantically cried out, "Stop! You're killing him! Stop it!"

One of the other guards rushed forward and pulled Red back. "The slave boy is right. Release him. Movrak won't be happy if you killed the elf before we find out what he is after."

With a frustrated growl, Red swiveled around. His furious gaze clashed with Eldarion's determined one.

"You dare to speak against me?" the man demanded as he strode closer to the cell. He gave the boy a suspicious look. "What matters to you if the elf lives or dies?"

Too late, Eldarion began to realize his mistake. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut. Still, he couldn't just let the man strangle Legolas to death!

Bracing himself against Red's sharp glare, the young prince tried hard not to show his fear. "It…it matters not to me."

"You lie!" Red yelled. "You know the elf, don't you?"

Eldarion bit his lips and shook his head. He refused to look at Legolas lest he gave their secret away.

"Answer me, boy!"

"I don't know him."

Red was not satisfied with the boy's bland answer. He reached for the lock to the cell, remembered that the keys were missing, and went berserk with rage. With a snarl, he banged his massive arm against the bars.

"Where the heck is Jon the smith?" he demanded, turning to his fellow guardsmen. "He should have been down here hours ago and tend to these damn locks!"

"The last time we checked, he was sprawled on his bunk—dead drunk," one of the men responded with a sheepish shrug. "The burning of his shed upset him so much. It would take us a full day to get him sober."

As expected, Red was far from happy in hearing that. He banged at the bars again, cursing fluently at no one in particular. He could already imagined Movrak's displeasure at him for his lack of success in the elf's interrogation. And now they told him the cells couldn't be unlocked until their blacksmith was able to pull himself together after burying his sorrow in the cups?

_Damnation!_

"You humans are so pathetic," the elf suddenly said with a cynical laughter. "Drunkards, bullies, thieves, braggarts—that's what you are. No better than animals."

All the men stiffened. As one, they turned to glare at the chained prisoner. Red slowly approached the elf.

"_What_ did you say?" the man hissed in dangerous tone.

"You heard me." Legolas chuckled. "You have to agree, you _are_ pathetic. Look at yourself in the mirror and what will you see? A hideous bulbous creature with a pockmarked face that could scare away the fiercest orc on Middle-earth."

Eldarion felt the blood drain off his face. He knew exactly what Legolas was doing. The elf was trying to repair the young prince's mistake, shifting the men's entire attention back to him by deliberately provoking them.

"Of all the ugliest things I've ever seen," Legolas happily added, "_you_ top the list."

Red exploded. His fist flew, hitting the elf square in the jaw. Ignoring the cries of alarm of his fellow colleagues, the man swung again and again until his fists cracked and bled.

"How dare you insult me!" he growled, yanking out a dagger from his boot. He held it up so Legolas could see it. "Recognize this? Yes, it's yours. Now, I'm going to pick at your eyeballs with it unless you start telling me about who you are and what you're doing here!"

His head lolling, blood dribbling from his nose and mouth, Legolas forced himself to mumble, "Screw…you…"

As if waiting for such a response, Red grimly smiled and placed the tip of the dagger dangerously close to Legolas' left eye. "Those silver orbs look nice for amulet. Shall I have the honor…?"

Legolas had a fierce resolve. Yet, resilient as he was, he couldn't help but feel deeply terrified. He could not let these humans damage his eyes. He had been blinded once, and it was not a pleasant experience to repeat.

"No, wait. I…I'll talk," Legolas said, trembling slightly as he felt the sharp tip of the blade against the corner of his eye. He knew how sharp the dagger was. He whetted it himself every day!

"I'll tell you everything. Just get the blade out of my face," the elf added, praying that Red would do as he was told.

"Fine, then." Red grinned with pleasure and lowered the dagger. "Now, talk!"

Glancing left and right, as if looking for any eavesdroppers, Legolas leaned over—as close as he could—towards Red. He then softly whispered, "It's not a good idea to let these men hear us."

Red instantly jerked away. He gave the elf a suspicious gaze. "What are you implying at, you stupid beast? Just cut the nonsense and out with your name!"

"My name is for Movrak's ears only," Legolas hissed back. "And so is the nature of my mission here."

"I don't trust you."

"Feel what you like. But if Movrak's personal secret leaks out…"

"What secret are you talking about?"

With a phony sigh, Legolas explained, "I have news…about his young son."

"You're lying!" Red yelled incredulously. "Movrak doesn't have a son!'

Legolas snorted. "You're sure about that?"

For once, the man lost all bluster. He blinked in confusion, as his comrades behind him whispered excitedly among themselves. None of them knew Movrak enough to determine whether the elf was lying or speaking the truth.

"I'm ready to talk, but only to Movrak. So go find him and bring him down here!" the elf spoke again, curtly this time. All trace of submissive was gone from his voice and manner, showing the humans that this was no ordinary elf they were dealing with.

Clearly taken aback by Legolas' bold demand, the men glanced uncertainly at one another.

"Are you going to do what he says?" one of them asked Red.

"Absolutely not! I take no orders from an _elf_!" the head guardsman snarled at his colleague. Turning back to Legolas, he said, "You are Lord Movrak's prisoner. He won't enjoy coming down here to bow to your request. Instead, you will go up to the house to see him."

The man was smiling, as if proud to come out with a smart solution.

"I don't think I can stand, let alone make my way up the stairs. I'll be rendered senseless before I even reach the house," Legolas complained of his frailty.

"That's _your_ problem," Red said with a sneer. "If seeing Lord Movrak will make you talk, we will drag you by the hair to him if we have to!"

At Red's next command, the men released the elf from his chains. The moment he was free from his bounds, Legolas dropped to the floor with a low moan. He thought of attacking his jailers, but he just couldn't make his limbs to move. His legs felt too weak to hold him up, while pinpoint needles burst in his arms as blood rushed through them once more. Ignoring the pounding of his brain and the slicing pain in his tummy, he pushed himself onto all fours in his attempt to rise, but instantly froze as violent nausea swept all over him in one big rush.

_Don't get sick, don't get sick, don't get sick…_

Legolas repeated the words in his head like a mantra, refusing to suffer another disgrace on top of everything else. Being caught and kept by the humans was humiliated enough. Puking in front of them would be an absolute disaster.

"Move it, elf!" Red demanded with a savage swipe to the back of Legolas' head. "You have tarried long enough. Come on, start walking!"

"I'm _trying_! Now stop hitting me or I'll throw up all over your precious boots!" Legolas shouted back in warning, sending the man a killing glare. Red hastily took a step back as he eyed the elf with disgust. Legolas would have laughed out loud at the man's expression if his strength permitted it.

Slowly, he managed to stand on his feet, albeit wobbly. The guardsmen quickly flanked the elf, clutching firmly at his arms and shoulders to keep him restrained, while another guard leveled a loaded crossbow at his spine. To struggle would only prove suicidal.

"Don't try anything stupid," Red warned him as they started moving.

"Like I know what that word means," Legolas muttered, concentrating hard on his feet as he limped forward. He leaned heavily against the two men for support. The floor felt terribly uneven, and his injured calf only made things worse. The arrow wound still throbbed although it had already ceased bleeding. He would have a grand fun time tugging out the arrowhead afterwards.

_If_ he was still alive by then.

As they ambled past Eldarion's cell, Legolas didn't even spare the young prince a glance. But after several yards before he disappeared through the doorway, the elf suddenly cried out to the ceiling, "Use the keys, Darion! Find Kel and Gallard! USE THE KEYS AND RUN FOR IT!"

"Shut up, elf!" Red roared and clouted Legolas' head. He hated it when the elf spoke in that elven tongue that nobody there understood. "Are you mad? What were you saying? Who were you yelling at?"

Legolas emitted a wobbled grin. "Now which is it, human? Do you really want me to answer that, or do you want me to shut up?"

Red didn't answer. But he looked as if he might kill the elf there and then!

Back at the cell, Eldarion was gripping the bars in his fists as the guardsmen went off with his beloved friend between them. He stared stupidly at the empty doorway, completely speechless. Stunned.

_Use the keys?_

_Find Kel and Gallard? What did he mean…?_

Eldarion's eyes widened when comprehension dawned

_KEL AND GALLARD! Are they here? Of course, they are! Legolas would not act alone! He can be crazy sometimes, but not that crazy. Oh, Valar. What should I do? Should I wait? But Legolas told me to find them. Ai Elbereth give me wisdom…_

Eldarion's brain ran a mile a minute as he took stock of the situation. His entire body trembled with excitement as flare of hope began to burn in his chest. He realized that Legolas had just provided him the means to escape, to leave this dreadful place, to return home to his family, to resume his duty as prince and heir. This was his only chance for freedom.

_But what exactly am I supposed to do now? _

He then recalled Legolas' words. _Use the keys_, the elf had said.

Giving no heed to his cellmate's curious gaze, Eldarion retreated into a corner before he slipped his hand down the back of his pants and fished out the heavy set of keys.

"What are you going to do with those?" the other boy timidly asked.

Eldarion flashed him an annoyed look. "Keep your voice down! Do you want to leave this place or don't you?"

"I do," the little boy nodded vehemently.

"Then help me."

"I will. How can I help?"

Eldarion bit his lower lip as he pondered. He looked down at the keys, wondering if one of them could unlock the hated manacles around his wrists and ankles.

"I want you to be my eyes and ears," Eldarion said, already jamming the keys randomly into the small hole on his wrists-manacle. "Watch the doorway and warn me if any of the guards return."

The slave boy blinked, and then stared in amazement when Eldarion's manacle popped open. "What…what do you intend to do?"

The crown prince of Gondor looked up, grinning with barely suppressed joy and triumph. "I'm going to set us all free."

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Keldarion was cursing his luck—or rather, the lack of it. He couldn't possibly get into Movrak's private chamber without alerting—or killing—anyone because two guardsmen stood flanking the doorway.

Indeed, the elf was already inside the merchant's great home. At present, the elven prince was hiding—clinging to the rafters like a giant spider, more accurately—in a niche just below a large onion-shaped dome that overlooked Movrak's door. He had been there for what seemed like hours, and his patience was quickly growing thin.

Earlier, Keldarion had had no trouble entering the house. From the rampart, he had leaped across and onto the roof before scaling down the wall and slipping through a window. Easily done, like he had done a hundred times before during his mercenary days.

Searching for Movrak's room cost him some time, though. The merchant had changed some of the house structure, which caused Keldarion to retrace his steps after he had gotten confused in the maze of rafters and beams. Guardsmen and servants occasionally walked below him through the hallways but none of them noticed the lone elf, for he moved swiftly and silently, always keeping himself glued to the shadows. Besides, the humans fixed their eyes straight forward. They never bothered looking up.

Then everything came to a hitch when he finally found Movrak's room.

"Come on. Move away from there!" Keldarion hissed through gritted teeth in frustration, but the two men still dutifully guarded their master's closed door. The excitement earlier in the evening might have provoked Movrak to install extra security inside his house, for these guardsmen were armed with loaded crossbows. They looked very alert, as if expecting any intruder. Each man also carried a small horn tied to his belt. A short blow on it would bring the rest of the household to come running. It was definitely not a scene Keldarion wished to stir and encounter.

"Son of a warg! Don't these two need to go piss or something?" he muttered to himself as he rubbed a hand down his face. In other circumstances, he would have had no qualm to just leap down and slay the two guardsmen with his sword. But two important things were at stake here—silly Eldarion and sillier Legolas. As long as those two brats' fate was unknown, Keldarion had to stay invisible.

Keldarion sighed for the umpteenth time when two more guardsmen appeared. But he sat still when he saw them stopped to converse with the first two guards, their voices rising in their excitement.

It didn't need a smart person to figure out that something was amiss.

_Now what is going on? _

Keldarion watched, bewildered, when one of the men pounded hastily on the door. "Lord Movrak! Awake! The elf is ready to talk!"

_This is definitely not good_, Keldarion thought, his own heart racing like mad inside his breast. _The elf?__ That would mean Legolas, and he is ready to talk. Talk about what, exactly? And what had they done to him that he has agreed to do so?_

It took another round of door-pounding a full minute later when Movrak finally flung open his door. Wrapped in his night shift with his night cap askew, he glowered at his guardsmen in pure displeasure. "This had better be good, or else…"

"The elf, my lord," one of the men explained, "he is ready to talk."

"So you have found out who he is?"

"No. He hasn't talked yet, but he will, my lord."

Movrak's frown grew darker. "You disturb my sleep just to tell me _this_?"

"Uh…forgive me, my lord. We came to inform you this b…because the elf only wants to speak with you."

The merchant looked puzzled. "He only wants to speak with me?"

"That's what he said." The guardsman looked uneasily at his colleagues before continuing, "The elf said he…uh…he knows about…er…"

"Out with it, man! I don't have all night to listen to you blubbering like an idiot!" Movrak snapped with impatience.

"The elf knows about your son, my lord!" the guardsman blurted, and quickly looked away from the awful expression that rapidly appeared on the merchant's face.

Movrak's mouth was hanging opened. His eyes were huge.

"He knows about _WHAT_!" he shrieked, turning red and white and then red again. "But I don't have a…!"

Taking a deep lungful of breath, Movrak gathered his wits before asking, "Where is the lying creature? Still down in the prison?"

"We have brought him here, my lord. He now waits for you in the common hall."

Movrak nodded. He vanished swiftly into his chamber before re-appearing, this time wearing a night robe and sans the night cap. "Take me to him."

Up in the rafters, Keldarion was struck dumb with amazement. _Movrak's__ son?__ Where in Arda did Legolas come out with that idea? What is the brat up to?_

Shaking his head in wonder, the elf made a move to follow as the men hurriedly walked away.

**TBC…**

**A/N : By the way, if some of you are wondering why I'm not responding to any of the reviews lately, please be assured that I never intended to ignore them all. I cherish them greatly and feel honored to receive such a huge support. I truly want to answer all the questions, but I think I'd better e-mail them to you directly. The ffnet board has put up some rules, which include the one where the authors should not put other content except for the story itself. I've also found out that some of the authors have already been punished for doing so (e.g replying to reviewers' question and such). **

**If you have any questions for me, just give me you e-mail address and I'll try to make a quick reply.**

**See ya next chapta!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N : Hello, everyone! Yes, you all miss me, I know. LOL! Don't worry, guys. I never forget to continue this story. Truthfully, it has not been such a great year for me, what with my granny's death, and all. Then, to make matters worse, I got infected by dengue fever! **

**Right after I returned from Penang, I knew something was wrong with me but I ignored the signs. But when the symptoms were too bad to ignore, my family rushed me off to the hospital and there I stayed for almost a week. (I was very lucky I could still celebrate my 30th birthday at home on that October, 1st!). Trust me, you don't want to have dengue fever. It's terrrrrrrible! The entire time I stayed in the hospital, I was put on five (or was it six?) I.V bottles and took tons of antibiotics and meds. Yuck! **

**If you ever saw a mosquito with black & white stripes on its legs, just kill it! Don't keep it as a pet because it is Aedes mosquito, the culprit that spread the fever which killed about 10 people here in Malaysia this year alone. So, please be aware. Take me for example. I almost became a statistic. He! He!**

**Anyway, I'm fine now. Luckily, my brain is still intact and my plot-bunnies are immune to the fever. They are active as ever. So, without further ado, here's the next chapter.**

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Sheer pain and exhaustion had caused Legolas to lose consciousness as he was dragged to the great house. When he came to, he was momentarily dazed to find himself lying sprawl on a polished marble floor instead of the damp, filthy ground in the dungeon.

_Oh, right. My stupid diversion. It actually works_, the elf thought with a wry grin after he slowly recalled everything. Unsteadily, he pushed himself upright so that he could sit, throwing disgusted looks at the guardsmen who stood sentinel over him.

_With these bozos out of his way, now it's up to Darion to make his escape. As for what becomes of me, let's see what happens next_.

He didn't need to wait for too long. Movrak appeared almost immediately, striding so fast into the common hall he was almost running. Based on his face expression, the merchant was obviously not in the best of moods.

Legolas braced himself for the explosion. He was not to be disappointed.

"You lying spiteful creature!" Movrak yelled. In his outrage, the man took off one of his leather sandals and used it to slap the elf's face viciously.

The blow caused Legolas to be thrown to one side. He lay there for a moment, stunned into immobility.

"I do not have a son and you know it!" Fuming, Movrak glared down at the prisoner. "Why did you spread such lies to my men?"

Groggily, Legolas lifted his head. "Err…I did what?"

Narrowing his gaze into a slit, Movrak replied through gritted teeth, "You told my men you knew something about my 'son'."

"Did I?" Legolas blinked in bewilderment. He scratched his head, as if deeply puzzled. "I really told them that?"

Movrak's gaze grew narrower. "Yes, you definitely _did_. My men said so."

To the man's utter chagrin, the elf broke into a chuckling fit.

"Now what is so damn funny!" Movrak shouted, his fist clenched tightly around his sandal, ready to swing it again. "Stop laughing, do you hear me!"

"_You_? A father?" Legolas dissolved into giggles. "Ai, this is hilarious! Imagine you having a son. It would be like asking a gelding if he had fathered a foal! Ha ha ha!"

As the elf continued to laugh hysterically, Movrak exchanged horrified looks with the guardsmen. "Did you hit him overly hard on the head or something?"

Warily eyeing their prisoner, the red-haired guard inched closer until he stood next to his master. "We did nothing that could mar his sanity, my lord, if that's what you mean. We hit him mostly in the stomach, to give him as much pain as possible to make him talk."

"But _did_ he talk?"

"He…uh…" In great discomfort, Red had to clear his throat before continuing, "We…we still do not know who he is."

Movrak's head guardsman slightly recoiled from the look of pure displeasure the merchant was sending him. So he quickly added, "He refused to speak with anyone except you, my lord. I think only you can get some real answers from him."

"But that is your job! Why should I hire you if I have to do all the work?" Movrak shot back.

The guard's face flushed with embarrassment and anger. He detested to be yelled at in front of his colleagues. Reining in his temper, Red forced himself to speak slowly and patiently as if to a recalcitrant child. "You are right, my lord. It's my job to make him talk. But he has been very stubborn. Nothing we did was able to break him."

He shook his head, from exasperation as well as admiration. "My lord, this is no ordinary elf. From the look of him, he is no stranger to pain and torture. Why, he is not even scared!"

Frowning, Movrak stared down at the elf, who was still choking with mirth.

"Disgusting creature," he grumbled, wrinkling his nose at Legolas' way. "I don't care if he is the king of the elves himself. I want to know what brought him here. Make him talk, or you will find yourself unemployed by morning."

"But, my lord, we've tried the entire night…"

"Keep trying, you fool!" Movrak snapped. "Do _anything_ to make him spill out his guts and do it fast. He is here for a reason and I want to know what it is. Something tells me that he is already one step ahead of us, and it truly grates on my nerves that we have no idea how or when that happened!"

"You want to know what happened? _I_ can tell you what happened," Legolas suddenly spoke, grinning lopsidedly back at them. "In fact, I can tell you what will happen next."

Sobering, his smile vanishing, the elf then added, "You will die before the next sundown, Movrak, by my hands or others'. Mark my words."

As they all gaped at him, Legolas unexpectedly sprang to his feet and lunged at the merchant. With a shriek, Movrak put up his arms in defense, but the elf simply rammed into him and knocked the man down.

In a blink of an eye, Legolas had an arm locked around Movrak's neck. He pulled the man upright, holding him as a shield against the armed guardsmen. They had instantly surrounded him, aiming loaded crossbows at his head.

"H…hold…your f…f…fire…" Gurgling sound was coming from Movrak's throat as he struggled to speak, his face turning almost purple from lack of air. In desperation for release, his fists flailed about to knock the elf in the face. That only caused Legolas to tighten his grip even more.

"Release him!" Red shouted, raising his sword as if about to cleave the elf in two, but could not do so because the merchant was in his way.

Legolas grimly ignored him. Squeezing harder, he made a move to give Movrak's neck a vicious twist when someone came from behind him and slammed a cudgel against his injured calf, right on top of the wound where the arrowhead was still deeply buried.

Howling in anguish, Legolas arms instantly dropped away. He collapsed to the floor, holding his badly abused leg and whimpering over it. Movrak quickly scrambled off to safety, making way for the guardsmen to put the elf back under restrain.

"That's it! I've had enough of this," the merchant's voice was a little raspy as he spoke. He slapped at the hands that tried to assist him to rise and glared at the elf, now being held down by four men.

"If no one else would make him talk, then _I_ will." Rubbing at his sore throat, Movrak looked around and pointed at one of the guards. "You! Go and get me a pail of water and some lye soap!"

The guard froze for a second before rushing away to do as he was told. Turning back to the other guards, Movrak ordered, "Keep him still. Don't let him move even a muscle or I shall have all your heads on a platter!"

Legolas grunted in pain as the men tightened their grip on him. He was lying flat on his back, with two guards pinning his arms over his head while two more were sitting on his legs. Defeated, he ceased struggling and shut his eyes, trying to gather his inner strength. Movrak was heard cursing and ranting in the background, causing the subdued elf to smile slightly.

That was when his keen senses caught a very familiar presence. And it was coming strong and fast.

_Keldarion_.

Legolas' eyes flew open. He gazed frantically about and found his brother leaping from rafter to rafter, high above the men's head. The brothers' gazes met, and Legolas could discern the cold fury blazing in Keldarion' blue eyes. Gripping his unsheathed long blade, the elder elf looked about ready to leap off his perch!

"NO, KEL! STAY UP THERE! I CAN HANDLE THIS!" Legolas hastily shouted in his own tongue before Keldarion could jump to his rescue.

The humans were baffled. They glanced questioningly at each other, murmuring among themselves as the elf yelled some more, "GO FIND DARION IN THE PRISON! HE IS TO ESACAPE ANY MINUTE NOW. FIND THE BOY, KEL! DON'T MIND ME. I WILL SURVIVE THIS. LEAVE NOW AND GET DARION OUT OF HERE!"

"What is he saying? Who is he speaking to?" Movrak demanded to know, looking a bit perturbed.

"He likes to talk to himself, my lord. Must be losing his mind or something." This came from Red, who watched the elf warily with mixed reactions.

Legolas let the men talked and puzzled around him. He didn't dare look straight at his brother, afraid that the men would notice another intruder in their midst. No response came from the rafters, but he was relieved to know that Keldarion heeded his advice by staying invisible.

When Legolas risked a brief glance up, he found his elder brother's penetrating glare cutting through him. No one needed to tell him that Keldarion was angry with him the most. That made the younger elf winced, knowing that even if he survived these humans, he still had his greatly incensed brother to deal with.

Contrite, Legolas closed his eyes and tried to erase his brother's disapproval frown from his mind. The next time he looked back, Keldarion had silently vanished.

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"Stupid pigheaded brat! Demented fool of a creature! That annoying troublesome princeling! I will wring his bloody neck when I get my hands on him, I swear I will!"

Mad and fuming, Keldarion couldn't stop cursing his brother as he swiftly made his way out of Movrak's big house. Still muttering expletives under his breath, he slipped out through the window he had used earlier and proceeded onto the rooftop. Above him, the sky was lightening, a sure sign that it was already dawn. Knowing that he had wasted several unproductive hours doing absolutely nothing only added fuel to his wrath.

"I'll kill him!" The elf hissed through gritted teeth, his fist clenched tight around the pommel of his sheathed sword as he gracefully leaped onto the parapet. "I'll flay his hide. I'll tie him to a tree, upside down, and let the ants eat him! And then I'll…I'll…"

He released a heavy sigh of exasperation. "Bloody son of a warg! I feel like kicking that stupid brat in the face!"

"Whose face are you talking about?"

Keldarion yelped at the sudden voice. He whirled around, his fist instinctively upraised. "Gallard, you stupid big bird! Where the heck did you come from?"

Gallard's grin was replaced by a grimace. "That sounds insulting, you know, calling me a big bird. I'm an eagle."

"Oh, shut up, _draq_. Your pride is the least of my worries." Keldarion dropped his fist. "I repeat, where did you come from? Didn't I tell you to stay back and watch the prison?"

"I watched it, all right. That's why I changed form and come here to find you." Gallard was filled with excitement as he explained. "Something interesting is happening there!"

"What do you mean?"

"The slaves have just escaped!"

For a moment, Keldarion went stock still. His eyes widened with amazement as he softly said, "So, Legolas spoke the truth."

"Huh?" Gallard blinked uncomprehendingly.

After he beckoned the _draq_ to follow, Keldarion started running along the rampart towards the prison. He could already hear the commotion coming from that direction. The patrolling guardsmen might have noticed the escaping slaves and were trying to make some arrest.

"That foolish brother of mine told me just now that Darion is escaping, and we have to grab the boy and get him out of this keep," Keldarion said.

"You mean, all this is actually Legolas' plan?" Gallard sounded impressed. "That's brilliant of him."

The elf shot a glare over his shoulder at his companion. "_Brilliant_? If you had seen him just now, you won't call this brilliant! It's downright lunacy!"

"How is Legolas, anyway? I saw them dragging him into the house but I got no opportunity to warn you."

Keldarion did not reply. He continued to walk on, as if he had not heard Gallard asking him. But the _draq_ was so like Legolas, who could be so persistent that he would push and prod until he got the information he desired, no matter who got mad at him while doing so. And that was exactly what Gallard did.

"Well? How is your brother? Is he all right?"

Keldarion grounded his teeth, still not answering.

"He is not dead?"

"No, he is not dead but he is not far from it!" The elf snapped, pausing in mid stride. Glowering at his friend, he added, "Movrak and his men are torturing him to make him talk."

Gallard's eyes went huge with disbelief. "And you left him _there_?"

"He gave me no choice!"

"But surely you can…"

"Surely, I cannot!" Keldarion ran a hand down his face. He felt so tired already, but their rescue mission had not even started. Quickly, he explained everything he had witnessed in Movrak's common hall to the still dumbfounded _draq_.

"Look, I am angry at Legolas for even suggesting this, but I had to admit that he is right," the elf said next. "Aragorn's son must come first. If we want to get the boy safely away, we have to do it now, while the chaos down there can still provide us some cover."

"What about Legolas?"

Keldarion went quiet for a while, and then he resumed walking.

"Kel? You are not going to leave your brother there, aren't you?"

"We will return for him," Keldarion responded, looking even grimmer than ever. "Movrak won't kill him, not before the man gets some answers. Legolas will try to remain alive as he waits for us."

Gallard quicken his pace to catch up with the elf. "You have a plan in mind?"

"I'm working on it, right as we speak. But we need to find Eldarion first."

"Kel?"

"What now, Gallard?"

"You had better make sure that your next plan actually works. Because, so far, you back-up plans totally sucks!"

**TBC…**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N : Thank you so much for all those Birthday e-cards you guys sent me! I love them all. And I also appreciate your concern about my health. I feel so loved! Worry no more, everyone. I'm hundred percent fine now. **

**Well, sorta. LOL!**

**I bet that all of you is dying to know what the soap and water is for, right? So before you start reading the next installment, please be forewarned—this chapter contains angst and heavy torture scene. Some of you might find this too hard to accept. **

**Enjoy the torture…err…the chapter.**

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It was a definite chaos outside the prison. All the slaves were on the loose, and Movrak's guards were frantic to recapture them.

Hiding next to a shed, Eldarion grinned to see the newly-freed slaves ran for the big gate, shouting wildly as they rammed bodily into the guards who stepped in their way. Some of them managed to dodge being captured, while the rest—mostly the women and children—stumbled half-way and were quickly apprehended. Still, they refused to be dragged back to the cells without a fight. And fight the guardsmen they did, screaming and hollering at the top of their lungs, fists flying and legs kicking.

Satisfied that he had created the distraction he needed, Eldarion turned and gestured for the small figure crouching next to him, "Come, let's go."

The young boy, the one who had been his cell-mate, meekly obeyed. He had nowhere else to go, so he had been following Eldarion around like a lost puppy, mimicking the elder boy's every move. But the boy-slave was immediately puzzled when Eldarion veered not for the gate but towards the main house instead.

"Where are we going? I thought we're supposed to escape."

"We will. But we need to get my friend out of the house first," Eldarion replied as he led the way, gluing himself to the shadows near the high wall. Most of the guardsmen were now busy in the front square, their hands full with the runaway slaves.

Shocked, the younger boy froze in his tracks. "We are going to the house? You must be mad!"

Eldarion also stopped, scowling. "Call me whatever you wish, but I must help my friend."

"But he is an elf!"

Truly angry now, Eldarion sent his companion a murderous glare. "And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

The other boy shrank back against the wall, looking quite terrified. "Uh…n…nothing. I'm just…well, confused. How can an elf be your friend?"

"And how can he not be?"

"But elves are fierce and nasty creatures! They kill without mercy. Just look at what your so-called friend did to those guards. He is no better than Movrak and his men, cruel as he is."

Eldarion felt like whacking the younger boy upside the head for his pitiful naiveté. "You don't know what you're talking about, boy. Elves are fierce, yes, when they need to be. But they are never cruel."

"And how do you know that?"

_Because I'm part elf myself_, Eldarion wanted to admit. He said instead, "Look, let's stop talking and move on. We are wasting too much time already. We need to get into the house while the guards are still preoccupied."

"I'm not going into the house! We might get caught and thrown back into the cells."

"The elf needs our help!"

"He is _your_ friend. Not mine. _You_ help him!"

Eldarion was so furious he nearly choked the younger boy to death. "_My_ friend is the reason why we managed to free ourselves. If not for him, both of us would still be sitting in that blasted dungeon!"

"And I'll do anything not to return there again!" With that claim, the slave-boy pushed Eldarion aside and ran towards the direction of the big gate. He never looked back.

"Why, the stupid ungrateful lout!" Eldarion fumed, staring at the small figure that quickly vanished amidst the scuffling throng in the middle of the courtyard. "Serves him right if they caught him again!"

Shaking his head, the young prince gathered his wits to concentrate on the task at hand. He resumed walking with stealthy steps, still camouflaged by the deep shadows. After fifty yards, he stopped and hid himself behind a water barrel, trying to figure out what he should do next.

Trembling with adrenaline and anxiety, Eldarion's heart raced a mile a minute. He was glad that, so far, his presence was still undetected. But he knew that his luck would not last long when he got to the house because Movrak's guardsmen practically blocked the doorway. It was doubtful that he could move past them without raising the alarm, let alone finding Legolas and getting the elf out to safety.

To his annoyance, Eldarion had to admit that the slave-boy had been right. Saving Legolas would only land him back into the cell. Sooner or later, someone would notice him and give chase. It was highly likely that he would be captured once more, and then Legolas' effort and self sacrifice would be all for nothing.

Eldarion spent a long moment pondering on his dilemma. To enter the house was a huge risk to his life. To leave Legolas behind would break his own heart. Whichever decision he chose, the crown prince of Gondor was damned either way.

The young prince was surprised to realize that silent tears had coursed down his cheeks. He angrily brushed them away, loath to fall apart at a time like this. He tried to stay on focus, but couldn't forget how awful Legolas had looked when the elf was dragged away, badly bruised and bloodied and in terrible pain. Such a faithful friend he was, silently suffering those cruel beatings simply for Eldarion's sake.

_All_ for him.

_And I'm thinking of running for my life and leave him in this evil place? Am I that selfish? Absolutely not! _

Fired by renewed determination, Eldarion braced himself behind the water barrel, preparing to make a mad dash towards an unprotected dark window situated on the left side of the house.

He had taken only a step forward when, suddenly, a strong arm grabbed him from behind and yanked him backwards. A hand quickly covered his mouth before he could cry out in protest. Desperate for release, he lashed out some wild kicks which his assailant easily avoided.

"Cease struggling, young one! It's me."

Eldarion instantly went still when he heard that voice. He whirled around as the arms released him, only to gape in amazement.

"_Keldarion_? You are here?"

The elder son of Thranduil did not look overly happy to see him. "Unfortunately for me, yes, I'm here—saving the butts of Middle-earth's spoilest brats as usual."

Forgetting himself, Eldarion threw himself into the elf's arms in great relief. "Oh, I'm so glad you found me! Ai Elbereth! I don't know what to do, Kel. Legolas is in the house. They have planned to do something to him and I know it's nothing good. We must get him out of there now. I can't do it myself so please help me. I swear I won't ask for anything ever again and I promise not to be so reckless that I drag everyone into a mess which I can't…"

"Darion, hush down for a second, will you?" Slightly amused, Keldarion had stilled Eldarion's outpouring words by placing a long, graceful fingertip on the boy's lips. "Tell me first—are you all right?"

"I'm not badly hurt," Eldarion said after he impatiently pushed down the elf's hand. "But, I'm worried about Legolas. They beat him fiercely to make him talk. Now they've taken him to Movrak and Lord knows what that horrid man are doing to him."

Keldarion's mood turned dark once more. Without a word, he grabbed hold of Eldarion's arm and pulled the boy towards the nearest staircase which would lead them up to the rampart. Hawkeye the eagle was above there somewhere, keeping his eye on everything to make sure that no enemy sneaked upon both princes on the ground. It was the _draq_ who had first noticed the Gondorim heir creeping alone in the dark.

"Hey, wait! Where are you taking me?" Eldarion hissed, planting his feet in protest.

"Up and over the wall, and far away from this bloody place," Keldarion curtly answered.

"What about Legolas? We can't leave him behind. They'll kill him!"

Keldarion swiveled around and stared hard at the boy, his blue eyes flashing with barely contained wrath. The elf's fury was so dangerously palpable that Eldarion flinched and took a wary step back. Never had he seen Keldarion looked so frightening.

"I've seen him and I know what he is up against more than you do." Keldarion's voice was eerily soft as he spoke. "So be quiet and do as I say. You must be out of this keep before the sun rises."

Stunned into silence, Eldarion could only follow as the elf tugged him forward. But as they were ascending the stairs, the boy couldn't stop himself from asking, "What of Legolas, Kel? We can't just abandon him."

It took a long moment for Keldarion to reply. But when he did answer, his tone was so cold it sent shivers up and down Eldarion's spine.

"Don't worry. I won't let those humans kill my brother. In a few hours, I will return and rescue Legolas."

Smiling bitterly, the elf prince added, "And then I'll kill him myself."

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In the common hall, Movrak paced to and fro as he impatiently waited. The appointed guard was taking his own sweet time to fetch the pail of water and lye soap as ordered. He had been gone for quite some time, and that caused the rest of the guardsmen to fidget restlessly.

Legolas had abruptly fallen into a deep silence following all that strange shouting. Restrained yet unbound, he lay motionless on the floor while his striking eyes stared straight ahead, seeing nothing, which was quite unnerving to Movrak and his men. They watched the elf warily, not knowing what their prisoner decided to do next.

When the much-awaited guard did reappear a while later, the merchant immediately rounded on him to give him a piece of his mind. "What took you so long? I've been waiting for ages!"

Winded a bit, the other man gingerly put down the brimming pail onto the floor. "Pardon me, my lord. I don't know where they store the lye soap so I had to rouse one of the servants to get it for me. She had to go down to the cellar in the dark and almost went tumbling down the stairs when the rats…"

"Oh, save me the excuses!" Movrak put up a hand to stop the guard's rambling. "Did you bring the soap?"

"It is right here, my lord." The guard showed him a small bundle the size of an adult's fist, which he hastily unwrapped. Lying within the fold of the brown paper was a block of homemade lye soap, the kind that was commonly used by every household for washing and cleaning. It looked harmless, but Movrak's twisted mind was able to construct a powerful weapon from it.

"Put it into the water and make me some suds," Movrak ordered. He then pointed to another guard. "You! Help him. I want this done quickly."

As the men obeyed, Movrak turned to look down at the elf, smiling with anticipation. "If this won't make you talk, then I don't know what will."

Legolas only stared back at him in silence, looking not the least bit perturbed. But, inside, he was deeply curious. _What is the soap water for? Give me a bath?_

"I'm going to give you one more chance before I take the next step," the merchant kept on talking. "All you need to do is tell me who you are, who you work for, and why you are here. Easy enough questions with easy enough answers, I believe. Talk now while you still can, my dearest elf. Tell me everything."

Legolas cleared his throat before he spoke, "Actually, I _do_ have something to tell you."

Cocking an eyebrow, Movrak leaned a bit closer to hear the elf's next words. "Yes? I'm listening."

With a crooked grin, Legolas replied, "You smell worst than a week-old corpse. Go wash your privates with that soap, and get rid of all those lice and maggots making home in your nether region."

The merchant flinched and stepped back, his face turning red with anger and humiliation. The surrounding guardsmen knew better than to laugh out loud so they averted their gaze, looking anywhere but at their master as they tired to control their bubbling mirth.

"Aren't you two finished?" Movrak barked at the guards tending to the water. Both men were deep in suds to their elbows. "Hurry up, you fools! Bring that pail over here!"

As the two guards rushed forward with the pail between them, Movrak turned to the others. "Keep a firm hold on the elf. I don't want him to thrash and struggle and spoil my plan."

Legolas rolled his eyes in exasperation as the men tightened their grip on him, almost cutting off his blood circulation. _This is a complete overkill. I am so weak I can't even lift a finger, let alone thrash like a trapped rat!_

"All right, elf. You asked for this." Movrak suddenly bent over Legolas, looking very fierce and determined. "You are thirsty, aren't you? Then, would you like some drink?"

Before Legolas could answer, the merchant roughly grabbed his jaw, pried it open and tilted the content of the pail right into his mouth. The elf choked and sputtered as soap water ran freely down his throat. Some even flowed into his nose and washed over his eyes, momentarily blinding him. For several painful moments he panicked, unable to breathe with soapsuds overwhelming his lungs. His entire body shuddered and convulsed as his mouth and entire gullet burned from the highly alkaline liquid.

The tormenting deluge suddenly stopped. The pail was taken away, and Legolas lay there, gasping and trembling uncontrollably. With painful needles pricking like crazy in his chest and esophagus, he bemusedly thought to himself, _All my life I've had many kinds of things pushed down my throat—bitter tonic, spicy soup, stag's blood, lethal poison. But soap water? Now, that's new!_

And then someone grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerking his head off the floor.

"Ready to talk, elf? Or do you need to drink some more?" Movrak growled.

In response, Legolas spat at the man full in the face. Movrak recoiled with an outrage cry, frantically wiping his face against his sleeve.

"You bastard!" the man yelled angrily. To the guards, he ordered, "Give him more!"

The top of the pail was back against Legolas' mouth, this time for a bit longer than before. His heart felt like exploding from the lack of air, as well as the burning flame that was roaring inside his chest. He couldn't stop himself from screaming in pain then, and the sickly gurgling sound he made was close to that of a slaughtered pig.

Legolas was convinced that he was about to drown when the pail finally ran empty. He gagged and wheezed, fighting desperately to breath. As some water was still trapped in his throat, that proved to be quite a difficult task.

In his impatience, Movrak kicked the bucket away and boldly placed one foot on the elf's belly. He pressed down hard with great relish, satisfied to see the horrible grimace that quickly appeared on Legolas' face.

"Your stomach is not feeling too good now, is it?" the merchant asked, mockingly. "It will feel a lot better if you start telling me everything that I want to know."

Legolas audibly moaned, his entire guts on fire. "You are…a tyrant…Movrak…"

"Yes, I know." The said tyrant smiled. "Come on, elf. You can at least tell me your name. I promise I'll take my foot off you."

Weakly, the elf chuckled and threw a droll look at the merchant. "Fine. If you…bloody insist…I will tell you. Better take note. I have…many names. Let's see if…I got them all correct."

The elf frowned, as if trying to recall, before continuing, "Well, my children called me Dada, my father calls me Nothing-but-trouble, my brother calls me Pesky-brat, my wife calls me Honey-bun, my friends call me Stubborn-idiot, and my…"

Movrak instantly lost his temper. With a roar, he raised his foot and stomped down with all his might. Legolas' arms and legs instantly jackknifed into the air from the impact to his abdomen, while the remaining soap water came gushing out of his throat and nose, drowning him yet again. To his horror, he began to retch, throwing up his stomach content all over himself. He tried to curl himself into a ball to ease his discomfort but the men wouldn't even let him.

"You despicable, lying creature!" Movrak went berserk with fury as he kicked repeatedly at the elf's already limp body. "Why can't you just answer me? Why are you being so stubborn, you stupid bastard?"

Legolas knew there was no point for him to answer, so he closed his eyes and willed himself to drift into unconsciousness. Unfortunately, that angered Movrak more.

"Wake up, you dung-meat! I'm not finish with you! Wake up!" the man screamed, stomping his foot again, this time squarely on the elf's groin.

The pain was terribly excruciating, enough to send Legolas instantly into oblivion. His head lolled to one side, and then he went absolutely still. Disgusted, Movrak whirled away, muttering curses under his breath.

"My lord Movrak! We bring you some ill news!" A group of guardsmen suddenly burst into the hall, surprising the others.

Movrak was clearly not pleased by this latest disturbance. "Damn it, what now!"

"The slaves! They have escaped!"

"_THEY WHAT_!"

It was hard to believe, but Movrak went redder than any human could possibly be. He shot a foul word at no one in particular and rushed away to check on the 'news' himself. At the doorway, he paused, growing thoughtful as he stared at the unconscious elf.

"My lord? Is something the matter?" the red-haired chief-guard inquired.

"The elf. He has his hands on this, I'm sure of it." Movrak looked grim as he began to understand the true reason that Legolas was in the house. "It was his plan all along, and we fall blindly for it."

Red gulped, knowing that he was naturally the one to blame. "What…uh…do you want us to do with him, my lord? Keep trying to make him talk?"

The merchant's expression turned even darker. "You have proven how useless you are in that department! He won't talk if _you_ were doing the asking! Use another method."

"And that would be…?"

"The Rock, man. Put the elf under The Rock." Movrak nodded in satisfaction. "If that still won't make him confess, than let him die as a squashed mute."

**TBC…**

**See? Didn't I tell you I'm still as crazy as ever?**

**p/s : Rutu, what cobalt blue thing? I don't receive it! Help!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N : Yes, I'm late again. But I just can't help it. You see, for my recent birthday, someone have given me three Harlan Coben's bestseller thrillers—_Tell_ _No One_, _No Second Chance_ and _The Innocent_. OMG! These books are incredible! I just couldn't put them down. Truly, I completely forgot about everything else! I'm totally hooked! Afterwards, I even bought myself the entire collection of Coben's Myron Bolitar series that cost me quite a fortune! So guys, I suggest you read this author's works. He is one hell of a writer, I tell you! He so loves to put this incredible twist and turn at every page. You would be frequently surprised, especially at the last chapter, I can guarantee that.**

**Enough promotion, now let's get back to business. I'm glad you all found the last chapter gross. LOL! I guess you won't be looking at lye soap the same way anymore. **

**Now here's the next installment.**

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It was mid-morning, a time when the city of Harodem began to stir awake. Most shops and businesses were still closed, with only a handful of people filling the town streets. And, like most other taverns in Middle-earth, the 'Minas Tirith' was also still asleep at this time of a day. Its hall that was noisy and crowded in the night was now quiet and deserted, except for the occasional snores coming from several drunkards who lay sprawled under the table or in the dark corners. The bartender was nowhere to be seen. Probably still abed with one of the serving girls.

The boardinghouse above was equally silent, even though all the helps had risen up early. Most of them were busy with their tasks, either working in the kitchen or doing the laundry. The narrow hallway that cut through the rented rooms was still deserted. Not a single soul was about. Immersed in wonderful dreams, the guests were not ready to rise and leave their bed yet.

The same could not be said about the guests in one particular room at the far end of the hallway, though. In fact, a heated argument was actively brewing.

"For the _third_ time, Darion, YOU ARE NOT COMING!"

Keldarion son of Thranduil was fuming, his face as dark as thunderclouds.

King Elessar's only son rose to his full height—which was a head shorter compared to the six-feet-four Keldarion—and tried to match the elf's furious glare with his own. "And for the _fourth_ time, Kel, I'M COMING WITH YOU!"

Gallard stood nearby, flicking his amused gaze back and forth between those two. The _draq_ was certain that it was unhealthy for him to step in and break them apart, so he kept his mouth shut and just…well, enjoyed the show.

Cursing hotly under his breath, Keldarion turned away and ran a hand through his hair in pure agitation. He then faced the dark-haired youth once more, trying to reason with him, "It's highly dangerous, Darion. I can't take you along to Movrak's keep because I want to concentrate solely on getting Legolas out of there. I cannot waste my time worrying about you. Besides, Gallard and I will move faster with us just two."

"I can keep up, blast it! And I can take care of myself!" Eldarion cried out in protest. "A sword is all I need. You need not worry about protecting me."

Sighing now, Keldarion leaned forward to grip the boy's lean but strong shoulders. "Look, young one, I know you have just mastered the swordplay. And I know how capable you are with a blade in your hand. But this mission is completely out of your league. Like I said, it is dangerous and very risky. Something could go wrong and you might be taken again. I won't forgive myself if that happened."

"But I…"

"Enough, Darion. This discussion is over." Keldarion straightened, looking as forbidding as ever. "You are to stay in this room until we return. Do not show yourself to anyone, not even the chambermaid. Keep the door locked and secured behind us."

Eldarion glared in answer, but the elf paid him no heed, fiddling with the fold of his turban instead. Assured that his disguise was still in place, Keldarion picked up his pack and weapon off the bed before glancing at Gallard.

"You ready? Come, we've got to move."

Sending Eldarion an apologetic shrug, Gallard shouldered his own pack and followed the elf to the door.

To Keldarion, the entire argument might have ended right then. But, just like his father, Eldarion was never known to easily give up without a fight. Or in this case, without a bargain.

When Keldarion placed his hand on the door knob, the boy suddenly voiced out, "I know something that you don't."

The elf froze at that announcement. Calmly, he turned around and fixed his gaze on the Gondorim crown prince. "What did you just say?"

"I said, I know something…"

"Yes, I heard that but what exactly do you mean?"

Eldarion met the elf's steely gaze head on. "Before I tell you, you have to promise me that you will let me come with you."

A cloth-mask was covering the lower part of Keldarion's face, hiding most of his expression, but Eldarion knew that the elf's contained fury was reaching its dangerous peak from the way his cobalt-blue eyes narrowed to a slit.

"You are in no position to negotiate, young one," Keldarion softly said. "Stay here like I told you, or I swear I'll…"

"Movrak has the crown!"

Keldarion thought he didn't hear it right. "The _crown_? What the blazes are you yammering about?"

"_What_ crown?" Gallard also sounded perplexed.

"Isildur's crown. The one that everyone thought is lost since the day he died."

Silence reigned, but afterwards Keldarion began to chuckle.

"Isildur's crown. Right." Shaking his head, the elf turned back towards the door. "Nice try, Darion. You nearly got me there."

Eldarion hastily grabbed Keldarion's arm. "I'm not joking, Kel! Movrak has the crown, I swear this!"

Keldarion impatiently shook off the boy's grip. "And how did you know that? He told you? Then he was lying because…"

"No, I saw it! With my own eyes. Movrak showed it to me."

That got the elf's complete attention. He snatched down the mask that covered his face and gave Eldarion the full density of his incredulous stare. "He showed you the crown?"

"Yes."

"When?"  
"Yesterday, when he brought me to his treasure vault and offered me the position of his consort."

Keldarion's frown grew deeper, his voice went even colder. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

The boy gazed down, as if he found the patterns in the floorboards highly interesting. "I…I forgot. Only now I remember."

The elf still looked doubtful but Eldarion knew nothing else to stay to convince him.

It was true, he had forgotten all about Isildur's crown in all the excitement of escaping Movrak's keep. The minute the boy was found, Keldarion had practically pushed him over and down the wall. With the elf's help, Eldarion's descent had been hair-raisingly swift. He had survived that episode totally unscathed, except for the colorful bruises he had acquired after landing ungracefully on his rump.

His mother might be a sure-footed elf, but she had never taught his son how to rock-climb.

Gallard had been waiting below. After recovering their horses, the three companions rushed back towards the city, where the elf and the _draq_ easily managed to smuggle Eldarion into the boarding house, unnoticed. While his various cuts and wounds were being tended to, the boy told his rescuers everything that had happened since the day he had ran away from home.

Well, _almost_ everything.

"Are you sure it was Isildur's crown that you saw?" Keldarion asked, a bit calmer now.

"I'm sure. I would not mistake the emblem of a white tree stamped on it for anything else."

Thoughtful, Keldarion exchanged quick glances with Gallard. The _draq_ still looked a bit skeptical, his head tilted to one side as he watched the Gondorim prince.

"This is quite bizarre, Darion," he said, "Isildur had died a long, long time ago. It's hard to believe that his crown which had been lost for over a thousand years suddenly popped up somewhere in the hands of a mortal man. The thing must be incredibly old, all broken and rusty by now."

"It's still in good shape! I've seen it!" Eldarion interjected. "Movrak was showing off when he placed the crown upon his head, as if to mock me."

"Where did you say Movrak keep the crown?" The elf wanted to know.

"Inside his treasure vault," the boy quickly answered. "It is actually a tomb, his family crypt. Movrak keeps his ancestor' remains there. He has been hiding the crown in one of the…"

Keldarion and Gallard were puzzled when the young prince suddenly stopped talking.

"In one of the—well, what? What are you trying to say?" urged Keldarion, one of his eyebrows rising high in his enthusiasm to know the rest of Eldarion's explanation.

With an audible gulp, the boy took a couple steps backward, out of the elf's reaching hands. "I…I won't tell you."

Keldarion stiffened. "Excuse me?"

"I won't tell you! Not if you won't let me come with you to rescue Legolas."

There. He had said it—and almost wished he hadn't because Keldarion's temper was quickly turning for the worst.

With a mighty roar, the elf abruptly whirled around and threw a fist—right into the wall. Eldarion jumped in fright but stood firm where he was, even when Keldarion stalked straight towards him.

"You try my patience, you insufferable little human!" the elf shouted in his face. "Tell me where Movrak keeps the blasted crown!"

"Take me along with you, you arrogant domineering elf! I will tell you when we get to the keep!" Eldarion shouted back.

"No way. You are staying behind where it is safe. For heaven's sake, we've just rescued you from that bloody place!"

"Then I won't tell you where the crown is!"

"Will you stop being so stubborn!"

"Stop being so stubborn yourself!

"Son of a warg! I feel like knocking you senseless, boy!"

"Try it, Kel! And I'll kick you in the balls like I did to Movrak! You won't be able to walk properly for weeks!"

Without warning, Gallard came near and yanked Eldarion away, shoving him unceremoniously onto one of the beds. When the boy shot back to his feet, the _draq_ pointed a finger at him and barked, "YOU! SIT!"

Eldarion sat.

The elf was opening his mouth to say something, so Gallard yelled, "AND YOU! BE QUIET!"

Keldarion shut his mouth and crossed his arms, fuming in silence.

When everything was back to order, the _draq_ threw disgusted looks at them both. "This is ridiculous! The two of you are acting like children!"

"Yes, but I'm only fifteen. What's _your _excuse?" Eldarion smirked at the thousands-year-old elf.

Keldarion glared, steams seemed to be coming out of his nostrils. "How I wished to squeeze your scrawny neck between my hands…"

"Did I give you both the permission to speak?" The Tasqamaran king softly said through gritted teeth, his tawny eyes flashing dangerously with ire.

The two noble princes had the grace to look abash. They lowered their eyes and sullenly replied, "No, my lord."

"Ah, good. Now it's _my_ turn to speak and you listen." Gallard smiled with satisfaction before turning to Eldarion. "You know where the crown is and you want to take it out of Movrak's possession, is that correct?"

The boy nodded.

"You also want to help free Legolas."

Again the nod.

"Very well. Then you shall tell us where exactly Movrak keeps the crown so that Keldarion can include this new twist to our rescue plan."

The two princes blinked at the _draq_.

"I beg your pardon?" Keldarion frowned, not liking this new twist one bit.

Gallard nodded. "You are smart, Kel. I know you can come out with something. Try to determine what role Eldarion would play in this plan of yours because we are bringing him along with us."

Keldarion's mouth dropped open. "_Bring him along_! Are you serious?"

"I'm deadly serious." Gallard's face was grim, but there was amusement in his eyes. "I'm pulling rank here, so what I say goes."

His face red, the elf stood nose to nose with the _draq_, hissing in a low dangerous tone, "You can shove your rank up your…"

Keldarion caught himself and stepped back. He silently moved away, raised his fist and punched another hole into the wall.

Grinning now, Gallard winked at Eldarion. "Yep. You are coming with us."

The boy managed a weak smile. "Thank you, Gallard."

"No, don't thank me yet," the king seriously said. "I might regret this later on. Promise me that you will follow all Kel's instructions. Stick to whatever plan he will come out with."

"I promise." Eldarion nodded vigorously. "I've caused Legolas to be captured, and I want to help free him."

"I understand that. But first, you need to help Kel make some changes to our original plan by providing him this latest information."

"You mean, where the crown is?" Eldarion glanced tentatively at the still seething elf. "Uh…Movrak keeps it inside one of the sarcophaguses, at the farther back of the tomb behind all his treasures."

Keldarion went still. There was a faraway look in his eyes, a sure sign that the wheels of his brain were already churning fast. "Sarcophaguses, you say? Do you remember which one?"

"Yes, I do."

Nodding absently, the elf held his chin and calmly began to pace, mumbling to himself all the while, "The tomb. Movrak's treasure vault. He will hold the only key, of course. We have to meet him personally."

Eldarion's eyes went wide at this. "_Meet_ him? But he will recognize me instantly!"

"Not if you are in disguise, Darion." Gallard tried to reassure him. "Right, Kel?"

The elf sent him a ferocious scowl. "Be quiet! I'm trying to think."

"Oh. Sorry."

Keldarion paced some more before he suddenly paused and swiveled around to face them. "In order to do this, 'Rowan the mercenary' has to return."

Eldarion and Gallard were struck dumb at this. "What?"

"Never mind. I'll tell you all about him later," the elf said with a nonchalant wave. "I know what we need to do to make this work. So here's my plan…"

The other two listened intently as Keldarion gave them the details of their rescue mission.

"In short, after we've grabbed Legolas _and_ the crown we will leave this city at once," the elf said at the end of his explanation. "No use to tarry here any longer."

"Kill two birds with one stone. Oh, I'm going to love this one," Gallard enthused, gleefully rubbing his hands. "Do you want to slay Movrak, or should I?"

"Leave that sick human to me. I know what to do to him for what he is doing to my brother."

"You are sure this plan will work?" Eldarion asked.

Keldarion gave the boy a sharp look. "It will, if you do everything I told you to do."

"Hey! I've already promised you that, haven't I?"

"Then make sure you remember it. Stick to the plan. Do not stray out of my sight even for a second and don't _ever_ take matters into your own hands if something goes wrong. Just run for your life and head back to Gondor. Keep your gaze down, do not talk to anyone, do not…"

"I got it, Kel, I got it! Sheesh! You can be so overbearing it drives me to tears."

"And you can be so stubborn I feel like clobbering you," Keldarion shot back. "Stop being such a pigheaded bull. I already have one for a brother. I don't need another one to add to my long list of pains in the butt!"

Gallard was left grinning at this, and that caused Keldarion to snap at him, "You are in the list too, _draq_! Now cease smiling like an idiot and help Darion into his disguise."

"Where are you going?" Gallard asked when the elf strode for the door.

"The barn. I'm going to get the wagon ready for our short trip," Keldarion replied before he walked out.

Shrugging, the _draq_ turned towards the young prince. Eldarion sat there staring at him, unsure of what to do next.

Tapping a finger against his cheek, Gallard eyed the boy's bare head. "Hmm. You need a turban."

"I do?"

The _draq_ smiled sheepishly. "But I absolutely have no idea how to fashion one."

**TBC…**

'**Legolas under The Rock' scene coming up!**


	22. Chapter 22

**I stopped reading Harlan Coben's Myron Bolitar series for several days just to write this installment.**

**Enjoy,** **everyone!**

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Legolas had never felt so dirty in his entire life. Although only half conscious, he was mostly aware of how terribly filthy he must be. There was blood on his face, vomit in his hair, and urine down his crotch. He was also covered with dirt from head to foot. He looked ghastly, he knew.

And, Elbereth, how he stank!

Movrak's men were dragging him out of the house. They went hurriedly down the steps and across the front court, heading towards an open area between the stable and the guards' quarters. There, the guardsmen carelessly dropped their prisoner, giving no heed to his obvious pain and discomfort.

Legolas almost sobbed with relief when all movements stopped. _Good. Now leave me to my sleep…_

But his relief was short-lived. Rough hands were rolling him onto his back. Someone then began to quickly undo the catches of his tunic. The elf tried to ward off this intrusion, but he had no strength left. He could only make a feeble sound of protest as the men jerked down his leggings and yanked them off his feet, along with his boots. Then they started pulling at his arms and legs, tying each limb to a stake. In no time at all, Legolas found himself lying spread-eagled on the ground, all muscles and tendons stretched taut to the limit.

Stripped to the skin and completely immobile, Legolas didn't actually know what to feel. Anger, fear and mortification rolled into one—he had difficulties distinguishing them. It would have been better if they just ended his life then and there. He could feel nothing if he was dead, could he?

But these men would not let him escape the emotional torment that easily. Their rough handling seemed intentional, using every hurting jab and prod to keep him fully awake. They also worked in total silence, which caused Legolas to worry all the more, for he was still unclear what they intended to do to him. He couldn't fight to free himself because the recent beatings had truly weakened him. And then there was this knifing pain deep in his belly that refused to go away, constantly causing him to pray for oblivion.

_Oh, and my head throbs too. In short, my life is just peachy!_

The elf winced when those men jerked at his bonds, testing the grips. Assured that the restrains would hold, they moved away and out of his vision. That was when he caught sight of a strange-looking contraption hanging right above him.

The blood drained off his face—what was left of it, anyway—when he realized what it was.

_Wait a minute. Did they just say 'The Rock'? _

It was indeed a rock. And a big one at that. It obviously had been obtained from Movrak's marble quarry, cut into the shape of a rectangle slab. Supported by thick ropes on both ends, the huge slate was hanging from a sturdy high beam. A kind of pulley was attached to a knot at the top of the ropes, and then linked to an even stranger looking mechanism that had wheels and a lever to function it. This would enable the men to easily lower and raise the heavy rock without using too much manpower. Quite efficient.

The rock _was_ heavy. It looked as if it could crush someone to death, which was exactly why Movrak had it constructed in the first place. It was the merchant's favorite way to punish his slaves or, in Legolas' case, to make him confess and execute him—whichever came first.

The elf began to sweat with dread when he heard the machine being activated. The pulley screeched in protest. And then, slowly, the block of marble moved down towards him

_Oh, no. this is not good. This is definitely not good!_

The rock loomed larger and larger. Sheer terror caused the elf to struggle, jerking and tugging frantically at the bonds that kept him captive. Panic consumed him when he couldn't get free. He was on the point to let loose a hysteric scream when the boulder landed squarely on top of him, cutting off his breath.

Trapped like a squashed bug, Legolas squirmed and writhed frantically. Never had he experienced such suffocating pressure before. It was so unbearable he wanted to yell at the men to just cut off his throat and be done with it but he could hardly speak. His lungs felt like they were being squeezed from inside out, incapable to expand or deflate. He was still able to breathe, though. Just barely, enough to keep him alive to suffer the acute torment.

Gritting his teeth, he willed himself to stay strong. Black spots filled his vision. Loud humming sound was echoing in his ears. His entire body quickly grew numb. Funny that he could feel pain and nothing, all at the same time. Unfortunately for him, no matter how he wished for it, oblivion still wouldn't come—a cruel addendum to his predicament.

Through his tears of agony, Legolas watched the beautiful blue sky. It was morning, he realized. The sun had risen.

His blood instantly ran cold.

_The…the sun?_

Now he understood the real reason why they stripped him naked. As the sun climbed up, the rising temperature would heat up the earth. Approaching noon, the open space would bake under its glare, as would the large slab of marble. And what was he doing beneath it without a stitch on to cover his skin?

That's right. Apart from being crushed to death, he was also going to be roasted alive!

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Lord Movrak was greatly annoyed when someone knocked on his bedroom door for the umpteenth time in several hours.

"The bloody idiots! Why do they keep disturbing my sleep?" he grumbled as he sat up in bed. He then shouted at the top of his lungs, "Who is it? What the heck do you want now!"

"My lord, you have a visitor," came the timid reply from outside. "He is waiting for you in the parlor."

Movrak cursed. He scrambled to his feet and went to wrench open the door. "Haven't I told you? I do not accept any visitors in the morning! Send him away!"

The servant visibly quaked under the merchant's fury. "But, my lord, the man said it's important. He needs…"

"I don't care what he needs!" Movrak yelled. "_I_ need some sleep! I didn't catch nary a wink with all the troubles last night. Now you go and tell that man—whoever he is—to return at noon."

"But, my lord, it _is_ noon."

Movrak looked out the nearest window, and saw that it was indeed already midday. "Well, tell him to come in the evening. I'm not ready to see anyone yet."

"But, my lord…"

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Movrak raised his fist, as if ready to let it fly. "Get lost! Scram!"

The servant quickly ducked, covering his head with his arms. "But he…he insisted that I tell you, my lord, that his name is Rowan."

Movrak froze. His eyes widened. "_Rowan_? That bold mercenary?"

"Yes, yes. That's him!"

A slow smile spread on Movrak's lips. He was surprised but incredibly delighted. He never thought he would meet that mysterious man again. The last time they had seen each other was over five years ago, when the mercenary had come to claim for his fee. The merchant had hired him to track his runaway slaves and kill them. As proof to his completed task, Rowan had presented him with the slaves' dig out hearts—still fresh and red, all bundled up together in a sack.

It was one of the stories that had made Rowan so famous among the Haradrim communities. And so feared. He was a hired assassin—a polite and courteous one, but still a killer. People called him a cold heartless bastard, an enigma not to be reckoned with.

Working alone, Rowan answered to no one but himself. He would do anything for a fee. His sterling reputation preceded him. Nobles and scums alike craved for his flawless service. No one knew who he really was or where he came from, and that just added to his invincibility. He was slick, agile and fast. Some even called him a phantom, for he moved like one. One moment he was there, the next he just disappeared altogether.

And then, out of the blue, he was back.

_Handsome and dangerous Rowan_, Movrak happily thought to himself. _I wonder if we could pick up where we left off._

"Er…my lord?" The servant was still waiting for the merchant's response.

"Oh, right." Movrak controlled his expressions, "Make sure that Rowan is comfortable waiting there. See to his refreshments. And tell him I'll be right out."

The servant bowed and hurried away. Movrak stepped back into his chamber. He ran straight to the bell cord and gave it impatient tugs. A string of servants rushed in not long afterwards.

"Quick! I have an important guest to see," he told them, already disrobing. "Now make me presentable!'

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Keldarion was staring at a huge painting of an oliphaunt hunt on the wall when the awaited merchant burst into the room.

"Rowan!" Movrak enthused as he approached, his arms opening wide. "It has been so long! Welcome back, my lad!"

"Lord Movrak." Playing his role, Keldarion bowed respectfully in return. He let himself to be embraced, when in truth all he wanted to do was shoved a fist down the man's throat.

"It's so good to see you again." Movrak was beside himself with pleasure. He gestured at the brocaded chairs. "Come, have a seat."

Keldarion sat, nodding his thanks. "You look exceptionally well, my lord."

"Truly? Nice of you to notice." Movrak gazed fondly at his guest. "You are looking great yourself, Rowan. You don't change much. Handsome, like always."

"My lord is so kind," Keldarion replied with a slight lowering of his eyes, as if flattered.

The merchant stared at his guest for another minute longer, silently appreciating Keldarion's attractiveness. The mercenary was wearing a turban, but his face was left unmasked. Against the darkness of his attire, the blue of his eyes sparkled like polished sapphires. His shoulders were wide and strong, and his hands were so well-shaped they looked almost feminine.

Always a lecher, Movrak was already thinking of various obscene methods to put those graceful hands into use.

Keldarion tried not to squirm with repulsion. Aware of Movrak's penchant for good-looking lads, he could fathom what the man was fantasizing. His sword was hidden from view, strapped to his waist beneath the fold of his cloak. And he had this wild urge to take the blade out and impale Movrak's throat with it.

If the man would not stop leering at him that way, Keldarion might surely do just that.

A couple of servants bustled in to set more trays of refreshments onto the table between them. Movrak waited for the servants to leave before he cleared his throat and resumed speaking, "So, what brings you here? Are you under hire?"

"Actually, no, my lord. I'm here for business."

"And what business would that be?"

"I'm supplying arms and weapons now."

"Oh, really? How come? Why change profession?"

"This venture is a lot more profitable, compared to the previous tasks I used to do. Bigger market this way. Cleaner, and a lot less hassle—if you catch my drift."

Movrak nodded in agreement. He leaned eagerly forward, his interest piqued. "That's impressive to hear. Where did you get such supplies?"

"Oh, here and there. The weapons mostly came from Gondor and Rohan. Swords, daggers, spears, maces—anything, you name it. I even have the twin blades that use to belong to Legolas of Mirkwood."

"_Legolas_, you say? Are you by any chance talking about the elf of the Nine Walkers?" The man was practically jumping up and down in his seat with excitement.

"Exactly."

"But they said he is a legend!"

"Not to me, he isn't. A legendary warrior will not be so…er…careless with his weapons. So I stole them from him."

"You _stole_ them? Ho ho ho!" Movrak laughed uproariously, slapping his thigh with his palm. "That's the best tale I've ever heard in years, Rowan!"

"You think I made that up?" Keldarion coldly asked. His eyes were as hard as steel.

Hearing the mercenary's dangerous tone, the man swiftly sobered. "Of course not. I believe what you told me, my friend. Please, take no offense."

"None taken," the mercenary responded, his gaze still sharp and penetrating.

"Now, you already have the buyers?" Movrak was quick to ask, pulling the main discussion back on track. He was not the one who liked to miss any opportunities. Once a merchant, always a merchant.

"I do receive some requests from the Harodem common artillery. But, for friendship's sake, I thought I should come to you first, and let you see the goods before anybody else does."

The merchant was obviously pleased. "You thought right, Rowan. I can pay you more than what they can offer."

"And you will sell back to them for three times that price, I reckon?"

"That is how I do business." Movrak shrugged.

"My lord, before we agree on anything, let me show the merchandise to you. You shall see how beautiful and lethal Legolas' twin blades are, as well as the other weapons. High quality products, I can assure you. I have them all in my wagon, which is now sitting out front at your doorsteps."

"Then, what are we waiting for?" Movrak was already standing. "Take me to them."

Keldarion smiled inwardly as he also rose. "As my lord wishes."

**TBC…**

**Want more? Chapter 23 coming right up!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Didn't someone keep asking me for two chapters in one day? Your prayer has been answered! Here's the 2nd installment for today!**

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Eldarion could not help lowering his gaze when he saw Movrak walking out of the house with Keldarion. The boy had a cloth-mask covering the lower half of his face, but he was still afraid that the merchant might recognize him upon sight.

"Don't worry," whispered Gallard, who stood next to him holding the reins to Keldarion's mount. The _draq_ also wore a mask. "He won't know that it is you."

The young prince nodded. He fidgeted with the tail end of his turban, smiling when he recalled the previous one that Gallard had fashioned for him—the one that resembled a fruit basket. Before leaving the boarding house, Keldarion had glanced at it and immediately snatched the turban off Eldarion's head. He then whacked Gallard's head with it.

"You are useless," the elf had told the grinning _draq_. "I want him to look like a Haradrim servant, not a buffoon!"

Movrak came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, frowning a bit when he noticed Eldarion and Gallard standing close to the wagon. "You brought companions with you?"

"They are my servants," Keldarion responded, before ordering Gallard, "Open the door. Show Lord Movrak what we have."

Smirking behind his mask, the Tasqamaran king obeyed. He went to the back of the wagon and quickly unlocked the door, flinging it wide open.

"Come have a look, my lord," he invited.

The merchant couldn't hide his excitement. He climbed up the wagon steps before Keldarion, gazing wildly at all sorts of weapons surrounding him. Those were the same collection of weaponry that Thranduil sons had confiscated from the band of robbers who had kidnapped Eldarion earlier.

Keldarion watched in slight amusement as the man _oohed_ and _aahed_ in admiration at everything he saw. Such a rare chance it was to have Movrak secluded from his guards. The elf almost leaped upon the man and knocked him senseless there and then.

_Not now, Keldarion,_ he cautioned himself. _Stick to the plan. Get Legolas, get the crown, and then you can get even. _

"What do you think, my lord?"

"Impressive." Movrak nodded enthusiastically. "Impressive, indeed. But you've spoken of Legolas' daggers. Where are they? Show them to me."

Keldarion gave him a small smile. "I'd rather show them to you in the privacy of your own chamber, my lord."

"_My_ chamber, hmm?" Movrak leered, gazing at Keldarion up and down. "Anything else you want to show me?"

The mercenary kept a straight face, ignoring the merchant's innuendo. "Those twin blades are priceless. I had to shed blood before I could get my hands on them."

"You kill him? Legolas, I mean."

"No. But I killed his brother. Legolas managed to escape with his tail between his legs," Keldarion curtly answered before he turned and stepped off the wagon.

Movrak arched his eyebrows, awestruck. He quickly followed the mercenary out. "You don't know where Legolas is?"

"I think I do, my lord. I've just discovered his trail. That's the main reason I'm here—to finish an unfinished business."

"Come again?"

Keldarion leaned closer to speak only for Movrak's ears. "I know you keep an elf captive, my lord. Right here, in this very keep."

The man slightly balked. "How did you know about that?"

"I'm Rowan, my lord. Rowan knows all," Keldarion said haughtily. "Besides, your men talk a lot when they are in town."

Thoughtful, Movrak went silent for a while as he pondered. He pulled Keldarion away from other listeners before he began talking, "I have a problem."

"Yes? I'm listening."

"You were right. I have taken an elf prisoner. He broke into this place last night and created such a lot of mess. I also believe he is the reason why more than ten of my slaves managed to escape."

The merchant continued to speak about his recent troubles, a little irritated that he had to share them with someone else in the first place. "You see, I have a feeling that the elf is here for _something_, but I'm not sure what it is. I did everything to make him talk but he is too damn stubborn!"

"He didn't tell you his name?"

"He refused!" Movrak almost spat at the word. "I've never met such infuriating creature before. Are all elves like him?"

"You have _no_ idea," Keldarion replied, deadpan. "Where is he?"

"I put him under the rock. Maybe he has started babbling by now, or maybe he's dead already."

"The _rock_?"

_Keep your cool, Keldarion. Keep your cool._

Keldarion resisted the temptation to commit murder on that very spot. "So, my lord, I see you still have that wonderful toy of yours."

"Yes, well, it's handy," the merchant said with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "I sure hope it serves its purpose. But so far, the elf still keeps his silence."

"Do you mind if I see him?"

Movrak stared at Keldarion, and then shrugged. "Sure. Why not? Maybe _you_ can make him talk."

_Oh, I sure will._

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Legolas opened his eyes when he sensed a company of people approaching. They were still outside his line of vision, but he could figure out who they were.

"Has he talked?" he heard Movrak ask.

"Not yet, my lord," was the guard's answer.

Someone came near. Legolas had to squint against the glare of the sun as he looked up. His own brother was staring down at him, his face a stiff cold mask.

"Ah, there you are, Legolas. I've been searching all over for you."

Legolas could only blink, unable to even speak.

"That's _him_? That's really him?" Movrak nudged Keldarion, greatly excited by this new development.

"None other."

"This is incredible!" The merchant cried out joyfully. "I have the famous Legolas within my clutch? Who would have thought of that?"

"It does boggle my mind," Keldarion dryly replied, staring so hard at Legolas that his younger brother had to look away.

"Make him talk, Rowan. Ask him why he is here."

"Don't have to. I already knew."

"You do?" Movrak gaped. "Then tell me."

Keldarion faced the man. "He is Gondor's loyal ally. He came for a certain thing that you have in your possession."

The man frowned. "I have many things, Rowan. Can you be more specific?"

"This concerns a priceless relic, my lord." Keldarion smiled meaningfully. "Something that used to belong to Isildur."

Movrak was clearly shocked by this. Amazingly, he was able to keep his composure. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do."

Flustered, Movrak stared at Keldarion, down at Legolas, then back at the mercenary. "But how did you find out about it?"

"The same way _he_ did." Keldarion nodded at Legolas' way. "Your men talk too much."

The merchant whirled around to glare at his guardsmen, who instantly shrank away with fear. Turning back to Keldarion, Movrak said, "I guess I need to find out who among them gave away my secret. But first thing first. What are we to do with _him_?"

Both looked down at the silent Legolas at their feet.

Keldarion made a show of biting his lower lip, as if deep in thought. "I tell you what, my lord. I have a personal matter to settle with this creature myself. How about you give him to me, and then you shall have all the weapons in my wagon for free."

Movrak's eyes bulged, surprised by the generous offer. "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Genuinely angry now, Keldarion scowled at the man. He truly wanted this over and done with. Valar knew how much longer Legolas could bear under the rock's weight.

"Then it's a deal!" The merchant announced with an over-bright smile, enthusiastically pumping Keldarion's right hand to seal the agreement. "Take the elf. Do whatever you want to do with him."

"I'm glad you approve, my lord." Keldarion inclined his head with false gratitude. He turned towards Eldarion. The young prince was standing as still as statue, staring without blinking at the rock and its current victim.

"You, boy! Go unload those weapons."

Eldarion blinked. He stared dazedly at Keldarion, causing the elf to repeat his order, "Don't just stand there. Move it! Empty the wagon!"

The boy jerked to attention. He bowed repeatedly at Keldarion before rushing back to the front court. Movrak watched him go.

"How old is the boy?"

"Fifteen," Keldarion shortly answered.

"Is he good looking?"

"Very."

"I'll buy him from you."

"He is yours."

Incredulous, Legolas stared at his brother. _What the heck are you doing?_

Movrak told one guard to inform the servants to help Eldarion with the wagon. Then he gave the order to free the elf from under the rock. The guards rushed about to do his biddings, one of them already handling the lever of the mechanism. The pulley screeched again as the rock went slowly up—a high shrill sound that grated on everyone's nerves.

"We need to oil that thing," Movrak pointed out.

Keldarion just grunted in reply, his attention mainly on his brother. When Legolas finally came into full view, Keldarion almost collapsed to his knees.

Legolas looked awful.

There was a choking sound coming from Gallard who stood several feet away, but the _draq_ quickly smothered it down. Keldarion dared not look at his friend. He dared not look away from his brother, in fact. He simply couldn't, as if he had turned to stone.

_By the Valar, Legolas._ _What have they done to you?_

"Not pretty anymore, is he?" Movrak chuckled, intensely pleased with his handiwork.

"He looks like a burnt lizard," Keldarion softly said, which was not far from the truth.

There were red, angry blisters all over Legolas' skin. His face was dirty and bloodied. His body was black and blue, covered with bruises and filth. Helpless and totally vulnerable, he had been kept immobile that way for hours.

Deeply stricken, Keldarion had to blink away his tears lest Movrak saw them and made comments.

After they cut off his bonds, the men hauled the elf to his knees. Legolas nearly screamed in anguish from the sudden intense pain. He knelt there unsteadily, rubbing at his chafed wrists and trying to gather his bearings. His head swam. His vision started to blur. The soreness in his tummy grew tenfold.

"Where are his clothes?" Keldarion demanded. A guard rushed forward to give him what he asked.

Keldarion then threw the garments at his brother's face, "Cover yourself! Your flesh repulses me!"

Trembling, Legolas picked them up and painfully began to get dress. He noticed they didn't give him back his boots.

Movrak leaned closer to Keldarion, commenting, "I think he's afraid of you."

The elf gave no response, keenly observing his brother's slow progress. Legolas' soft whimpers were audible only to his ears.

When he was fully clothed, Legolas stayed where he was, swaying, fixing his stare at the ground.

"Are you done?"

Without waiting for Legolas' answer, Keldarion beckoned Gallard to come forward. "Bind his hands and lock him in the wagon. Make sure he doesn't escape."

Gallard hesitated for a brief second before he walked over to Legolas. Taking out a scarf, the _draq_ pulled Legolas' arms behind his back and tied the long cloth around his wrists.

Looking satisfied, Keldarion faced Movrak once more. "Well, my lord? Didn't you say you wanted to see something?"

"Oh, yes. Legolas' twin blades." Movrak brightened. He wiggled his brows roguishly. "But perhaps afterwards you can even show me _your_ blade."

There was that sly innuendo again.

Keldarion told himself not to throw up.

"Let us move to my chamber, Rowan. We won't be disturbed there," Movrak added with a big grin.

"By all means, my lord. Lead the way." Keldarion slightly bowed. Then he went off with the merchant without a backward glance to his brother.

With Gallard's support, Legolas struggled to his feet. He leaned heavily against his friend as he limped forward, his mind reeling from this sudden turn of events.

"Play along, Legolas," Gallard whispered through the corners of his mouth. "All will be well."

Indeed, it would.

Because Rowan the mercenary had come and rescued him yet again.

**TBC…**

**Deana :** **HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR DEANA. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUUUUU!**


	24. Chapter 24

**YES! I've just finished the entire Harlan Coben's Myron Bolitar series! (Seven books in all). They are bloody fantastic! You guys should read them. And his other book 'Gone For Good', the one that won the Edgar Award, is incredibly incredible! No wonder it won. It put me through a roller-coaster ride the entire time, from start to finish. I cried, I giggled, I got angry. Make me want to have amnesia so I can read it all over again and be surprised at every turn of pages. **

**Mr. Coben, you are a genius. Will you marry me?**

**All right.** **Enough of that babbling, Addy! Where was I? Oh, yeah. Keldarion and the gang have come to rescue our beloved Leggy. Will they succeed? Well, read and find out.**

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Instead of his private chamber, the merchant took his special guest back to the parlor. Keldarion was not the least bit disappointed by this change of venue. In fact, he didn't even care.

Wherever it took place, Movrak would certainly meet his death before the day ended.

Eldarion silently trailed behind them with his head bowed, looking as submissive as any servants in the vicinity. He had been told that his 'master' had just sold him off to the merchant. No surprises there. That was part of the plan. But, earlier, when Movrak had eagerly reached forward to yank down his cloth-mask to see his face, the boy panicked. Luckily, Keldarion had clamped a hand over the man's wrist, reminding him that they had to agree on a price before the buyer could sample the, uh, merchandise.

And so, here they were, ensconced in the parlor like elderly matrons having a blasted tea party. Eldarion remained standing as the other two sat down. The boy's gaze was still downcast, but his ears were strained to the limit to hear everything that was being discussed between the merchant and the mercenary.

"What did you say his name was?" Movrak asked with a lascivious glance at Eldarion's way.

"I didn't," Keldarion curtly responded.

Movrak blinked. "Pardon me?"

"I never mention his name." The elf gave the man a sharp look. "You still want him?"

"Of course. He looks strong. And good looking too, you said so yourself." Movrak leaned forward. "How much?"

Keldarion emitted a thin smile. "He is not for sale."

"But just now you told me…"

"I'm not selling him, my lord. I want to barter him."

"Barter him?" The merchant's eyes narrowed. "With what?"

Chuckling, Keldarion also leaned forward. He answered in a soft voice, "Isildur's crown."

Movrak flinched as if he had been struck. "That bloody crown? You've got to be kidding me!"

"Trust me, my lord. I'm quite serious here."

"But that's preposterous! The relic worth a lot more than this slave boy! I won't agree to this exchange!"

With a comforting smile, Keldarion reached over and patted the man's hand. "My lord, my lord. Let's not get too excited yet. I'm not finished. I have no use of Isildur's crown, you see. To me it's nothing but an old rusty band of iron. Completely worthless."

"Then why mention it?"

Keldarion shrugged as he leaned back. "I only want to look at it, to see for myself if the legend is true."

"But it _is_ true!"

"If you say so, my lord." The elf shrugged again and looked away, as if quickly losing interest. "But I still can't help feeling that this is all a hoax. The crown could be a fake. Someone might have made up all that silly stories…"

"It is not a fake, I tell you! It is indeed Isildur's crown!" Movrak yelled angrily.

"Then show it to me," Keldarion brazenly demanded. He shot Movrak a gaze so penetrating that the man fidgeted in his seat.

Silence reigned for several tense moments.

Eldarion glanced nervously between them, almost expecting a sword to materialize out of thin air and cleave Movrak in two.

"Look, my lord, I mean no offense," the elf finally added lest the merchant grew suspicious. "I just want to satisfy my curiosity, nothing more. If I wanted to steal the crown from you, I would have already done so. I won't have wasted my time sitting here talking with you."

Movrak grudgingly nodded. "Too true, Rowan. I'm well aware of your various skills and abilities. Stealing is without doubt one of them."

_Besides murdering bloody pompous merchants, that is_, Keldarion grimly thought.

"Fine, then. You win. You may see the crown," the man announced good-naturedly.

"Thank you, my lord."

"And now the slave boy is mine," Movrak gleefully said. He called out to Eldarion, "Come closer, boy! And take off that mask!"

"Not so fast, my lord."

Movrak rolled his eyes and sighed. "Oh, Rowan, what more do you want?"

"Easy, my lord. The boy is not going anywhere. You can have him all for yourself later on." Keldarion gave the man a placating but cold smile. "I have one last proposal for you."

"And what would that be?"

"Legolas' blades, my lord. I thought you want to see them?"

"Oh, of course! I almost forgot. Show them to me."

Keldarion bade Eldarion to come forward. The boy obeyed, riffling through the satchel he carried along with him. Then he wordlessly passed over a package to Keldarion.

"Here they are, my lord—Legolas' famous twin blades." The elf unwrapped the bundle.

Movrak's eyes widened, staring in amazement at the two identical daggers lying atop the dark velvet cloth. "These weapons are elven made?"

"Yes, my lord. Exquisite, are they not?"

The merchant picked one and held it up to the light to admire its craftsmanship. He nodded his approval. "Magnificent. A truly splendid work. The best I've seen."

"Now _these_ are not for free, my lord."

Movrak turned to Rowan with a grin. "I knew you would say that. All right, how much?"

"Fifty gold nuggets for each," Keldarion told him.

"Agreed." Movrak didn't even blink at the outrageous price. He put down the blade, next to its twin, and rewrapped them both. "Wait here. I'll go and prepare the payment."

As the man rose, Keldarion voiced out, "Are you forgetting something, my lord?"

"What do you mean?"

The elf also stood. "The _so-called_ Isildur's crown. When can I see it?"

Movrak screwed his face in distaste at the word 'so-called'. "I tell you again, Rowan, the crown is authentic."

"You can prove it?"

"Of course, I can! Why is it so hard for you to believe this?"

"I'm a born skeptic, my lord. I can't change what I am. "

Movrak shook his head. "Follow me then, Rowan. I'll show you the bloody crown. I need to put these blades in the vault anyway."

The man paused, staring at Eldarion. "The boy may come with us. He can help me count the gold."

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Outside in the front square, the wagon still stood where it was. Gallard sat in the driver's box, keeping watchful eye on the horses. They were fast growing agitated by the long wait. Even Keldarion's usually calm white mare—now tethered to the side of the wagon—started to show her restlessness.

The afternoon heat was unbearable. Gallard was already half-drenched with sweat. The air was so hot that he grew light-headed and his vision swam, making him wonder how the Haradrim could stand it at all. But mostly he was well aware of his friend's extreme discomfort, locked away in the back of the wagon like that.

It must be close to baking in there but Legolas made nary a sound, except for some low moans of pain that occasionally hit Gallard's eardrums, causing the _draq_'s heart to wither with sympathy. He did not dare inspect the elf's condition. Movrak's guardsmen were still closely about. It would seem strange to them if he opened the wagon door and gave treatment to his supposed prisoner.

Gallard hated it. But to guarantee their mission's success, Legolas had to suffer for several minutes longer.

The _draq_ glanced at the house for the umpteenth time, expecting to see his other two companions to shortly appear in the doorway.

"Come on, Kel," he muttered. "Where the heck are you?"

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Accompanied by four guardsmen, Movrak led his guests down the dark and narrow stairways to the treasure vault. Unlocking the heavy door, he told his men to stand guard outside.

"After you, Rowan," the merchant invited, pushing the door wide open.

Keldarion slightly inclined his head in gratitude before he stepped inside. Eldarion closely followed, keeping his distance as far away from the merchant as he possibly could.

Movrak just grinned at the boy's skittishness. He walked after them both, silently ogling Eldarion's behind the entire time.

Without looking, Keldarion knew what the man was doing. He cleared his throat to get the merchant's attention. "Problem, my lord?"

"Why would there be any problem?" Movrak smiled. He spread his arms wide. "Look around you. We are surrounded by all my riches. Clearly I have nothing to worry about."

Pretending to be impressed, Keldarion nodded at the gold and jewels and the other treasures that took up most of the space on the floor and against the wall. "Yes, I can see that."

"Haven't seen anything like this before, have you?"

_Actually, my father's treasure vault is a lot bigger_, Keldarion wanted to boast but knew it was unwise. He said instead, "You are the richest man I've ever known, my lord."

Quite true, though King Thranduil remained the richest _person_ in all Middle-earth.

"That's a high praise coming from you, Rowan." Movrak beamed with pleasure. "You are very frank, I like that. It makes me appreciate our relationship more."

_Relationship?_ Keldarion refrained from rolling his eyes. He gestured at the twin daggers in the merchants grip. "Aren't you going to store them away?"

Movrak looked down and remembered. "Ah, yes. I know just the perfect place for these two beauties. They would look good in that glass case over there, don't you think?"

Unwrapping the package, the merchant walked over to a tall cabinet. He pulled open the glass door, took off an antique sculpture from its stand, and placed the daggers there instead. After he finished, he stepped back with a hand clasped over his heart, admiring his handiwork.

"Now, isn't that a nice thing to see?" The man gushed to himself, his pleasure almost euphoric. "Never have I dreamed to see this moment. Good Lord! I got to keep Legolas' blades!"

_And I keep Legolas' toy warriors and wooden sword hidden under my bed. You want them?_

Keldarion made a face as Movrak babbled on, "By God. The legendary Legolas, of all people! Today, I have his weapons. Maybe next time, I would have his embalmed head on a silver platter!"

_Or maybe your head, Movrak_.

The merchant turned to face Keldarion, as if the mercenary had spoken out loud. "I have to thank you for the blades, Rowan. This is the most wondrous purchase I've ever made so far."

_And also the deadliest_.

"I'm glad my lord is happy."

"That I am, my friend. That I am." Movrak then strode for a heavy chest in a corner, nearly overflowed with gold nuggets. He called out to Eldarion, "Come here, boy. Help me with this."

At a slight nod from the elf, Eldarion went reluctantly. He accepted a sack from the merchant and began to work, putting in one gold nugget after another. Movrak intently watched, noting that the slave boy had no trouble counting.

"What is your name, lad?" the merchant suddenly asked.

Eldarion jerked in surprise and instantly lost count. He looked to Keldarion for help.

"I asked you a question, boy. Answer me. What's your name?" Movrak repeated.

"He can't speak, my lord." Keldarion came nearer, choosing that moment to interfere. "He is mute."

"_Mute_?" Movrak blinked.

"I cut off his tongue."

Movrak blinked some more. Flabbergasted. "But _why_?"

"A nobleman from Gondor lied to me in a business deal," Keldarion made up another story. "So I stole his son, and sent the boy's cut-off tongue back to him. As simple as that."

Both Movrak and Eldarion stared at him as if he had grown fangs.

"Oh, don't be so surprised, my lord." The elf chuckled. "I've done a lot worse to my biggest enemy."

Paling a little, Movrak nodded. "Yes, I can believe that."

"I'm sure you can." Keldarion smiled. "Why don't we leave the boy to his counting, my lord? I trust you have a crown to show me."

"Right…uh…" The merchant glanced back at Eldarion who began counting all over again.

"Don't worry about him. He won't steal anything. I will personally cut off his right hand if he did," Keldarion said, already fingering the sword strapped to his waist, planning to use it to sever the man's neck instead. The guardsmen were right outside the door, so he needed to get Movrak a little further out of their hearing.

"Come along. This way." Movrak was already walking towards the back of the room.

Sending Eldarion a brief wink, the elf went off after the man. He shortly found himself in a tomb, facing several gold-plated caskets lying next to one another. Turning to Movrak, he cocked one eyebrow. "This your family, my lord?"

"My ancestors, yes." The man nodded. "That one there belonged to my mother. She died giving birth to me."

"Which one is your father's, may I ask?"

"Oh, his grave is somewhere in the desert. He got caught in a violent sandstorm while out hunting oliphaunts."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. My father was a mean, crazy old sod. He grew even nastier after his mistress killed herself. Once, he was so drunk he didn't recognize his own son. He threw me onto his bed, ripped off my clothes, and had his way with me. And then he knocked me around when he found out I don't have pointed ears."

Keldarion was quite taken aback. "Err…pointed ears?"

"My father's mistress was a she-elf, Rowan. He abducted her during a business trip in Pelargir." Movrak smiled bitterly, recalling his past.

For once, Keldarion was speechless. He stared at the man, his face blank of all expressions.

"After my father kicked the bucket, his treasures and wealth became mine. And they just multiplied since then. But where is the bastard now? Well, he is not around to see all this." Movrak turned fully to Keldarion. "Poetic justice, don't you think?"

_Poetic justice._ _Right_, Keldarion thought to himself. _This man here is the best exhibit for bad parenting._

"All right, then. Enough of that." The merchant clapped his hands once and broke into a huge grin. "Let me show you the crown."

Wordlessly, Keldarion watched as the man stood next to sarcophagus and began pushing at the lid. He moved closer as Movrak reached inside.

"Ah, here it is." The merchant held up the circlet. "Look at it, Rowan. Look at it carefully and tell me that it is a fake."

Keldarion took the crown from Movrak's hands and inspected it all over. He noted the emblem of the white tree, the type of iron used, and the craftsmanship that clearly belonged to the people of Gondor. There was also a trace of a script engraved on the inside, but he could hardly read it. The scrip had already faded with time.

If this were not the lost Isildur's crown, then it was certainly a cleverly made replica.

"Well, Rowan? What do you think?"

Keldarion looked up. "I don't know, my lord. It looks real enough to me."

"Of course, it's real! You still don't believe me even after I've shown it to you?" Movrak clearly looked disappointed.

"On the contrary, my lord. I do believe you. Thank you so much for showing it to me." Keldarion still held to the crown as he said next. "And now, _I_ have something to show _you_."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Let me get the slave boy in here first." He did not need to call out for Eldarion. The young prince had already come to stand quietly behind them.

Movrak gaped incredulously when the mercenary passed the crown to the boy. Smelling foul play, he protested, "What is this, Rowan? Why give that to him?"

"Because, by right, the crown is his," Keldarion glibly replied. "Tell me, my lord, do you like surprises?"

"What the blazes are you talking about?"

"Show him your face," the elf told Eldarion. The boy obeyed by pulling down his cloth-mask.

Movrak did not understand at first. Then he did a double-take when he recognized who the boy was. "_You_!"

Before the merchant could utter another word, Keldarion's hand went up and caught him around the throat. Movrak was pushed backward, bending almost half at the waist over the opened sarcophagus, his head nearly touching the corpse inside. That awkward position rendered him completely helpless. He kicked and struggled to no avail.

"That was surprise number one," Keldarion softly said, his face grim. He tightened his merciless grip. "Want to see surprise number two?"

The merchant flailed about for release. He tried to scream for help but he could hardly breathe. His panicked eyes caught the mercenary's eerie smile, and his heart ran cold. "Ro…Rowan…Stop…please…"

"That's not my real name, _my lord_." Keldarion yanked the turban off his head with one hand. He pointed at his ears. "See these? They are pointed. Know what this mean?"

Movrak's eyes bulged, both in terror and disbelief. "Elf…you…_elf_…?"

"Exactly." Keldarion nodded. He squeezed harder. "Darion? Turn away."

Eldarion didn't need to be told twice. The boy whirled around to face the wall, hugging the satchel that now contained his ancestor's crown to his breast.

"And now for the last surprise, my dear Movrak," Keldarion was heard saying. "The elf that you caught, the one you tortured and put to death under the rock—"

Movrak's went on choking.

"—he is none other than—_surprise, surprise_—my own little brother. And do you know what I do to those who harm even a hair on his head, Movrak?"

More choking.

"I let them drown in their own blood."

There was a slight hissing sound of a sword being drawn, a quick slash, and then someone was gurgling as if being slaughtered—which was exactly the case.

Eldarion stood rigid, tightly closing his eyes as he tried to block out the hideous sound from his mind. He jumped a foot when someone touched his shoulder a while later.

"Are you all right, young one?" Keldarion asked, watching the boy's white face.

Eldarion nodded, forcing a smile. The elf's head was once more covered by the turban, his deadly sword already sheathed and hidden within the folds of his cloak. The boy looked for the merchant's decapitated body but saw no sign of it.

Keldarion smiled back. "I put him in the sarcophagus. Don't worry about him. He is now at the bosom of his family. Literally."

The boy shuddered. "That's gross."

"It's a lot less than what he deserves. I'd rather not tell you what I really prefer to do to him. You might have nightmares afterwards."

_Uh-huh. As if I won't have nightmares now_.

It was hard, but Eldarion managed to keep a straight face. "Right…um…I'd rather you don't, Kel."

"Cover your face. Our job here is done. Let us go." Keldarion was already walking ahead. "We must not keep Gallard waiting."

"What about the guards outside?" Eldarion asked, pulling his mask back on.

"Leave them to me. Say not a word. Just follow my lead. If something happen and I tell you to run, you run. Got that?"

"Got it." The boy nodded.

"Remember. No heroics."

"No heroics," Eldarion repeated. Walking between the treasure cases, he spotted the full sack he had left on the floor. "What about the gold? Shouldn't we take them?"

"We won't need them." Keldarion went to the cabinet instead. He opened the glass case and took out the twin daggers. "But Legolas will surely need these."

Tucking both blades into his waist-band, the elf jerked his head towards the door. "Come. Let's go."

When they walked out, the guardsmen immediately stood to attention.

"Lord Movrak wants you to keep guarding here," Keldarion told them. "Please don't make any noise because your master doesn't want to be disturbed. He is sitting inside with his ancestors, praying for their souls."

The four guardsmen didn't know what to make of that. One of them, the red-haired one, looked mighty suspicious. But even he had not the courage to challenge Rowan's words.

"I'll show myself out," Keldarion added, calm as ever. He pushed Eldarion in front of him and they started walking.

"Don't rush," the elf's voice was barely a whisper, but Eldarion heard him. The boy nodded, shuffling forward with his gaze fixed to the floor.

They ascended the spiral staircase, walked through the darkened corridors, cut across the foyer and emerged into bright sunshine—completely unmolested. Keldarion relaxed a bit. He had been keeping one hand on the hilt of his sword the entire time. Just in case.

Telling Eldarion to climb aboard the waiting wagon, the elf then paused to speak with the guards who stood flanking the doorway. "Give my thanks to your master for his hospitality. I look forward to our next transaction."

They gave him a slight bow. Smiling, Keldarion hurried down the steps towards his mount. He then gave the signal to depart.

Gallard nodded. The horses snorted and jerked forward when he snapped the reins. Sitting next to him, Eldarion held on to the side as the wagon rambled off.

With Keldarion at the lead, the entire procession steadily left the front yard and went through the huge gate.

And then they were free!

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Legolas surfaced from deep oblivion as the wagon shook about. He stiffened, fearing another torture coming up. But then his heart soared when he understood what was happening.

_We're moving!_

They were moving, all right. It was much too slow to his liking and _very_ shaky, but the wagon no longer stood in one spot. Not anymore. And that could only mean one thing.

They were making their escape.

Grimacing, Legolas tried to rise to a sitting position, but fell back with a sharp cry when he felt intense pain in his abdomen. His already battered body screamed obscenities at every bump and rut that the wheels encountered. His entire joints rattled, not to mention his teeth. And he was sweating profusely.

_Yikes! It's like a furnace in here!_

He raised his arm to wipe the perspiration off his face. That was when he realized that his hands were still bound behind his back. He had had no chance to free himself because after Gallard had shoved him inside, he had promptly passed out cold.

The scarf was not too tight around his wrists, Gallard had made sure of that. But in his current weakened condition, Legolas couldn't even think straight, let alone work himself out of his bond. So he left it be, lay his head back down and closed his eyes with a sigh. He let the rocking of the wagon lulled him to sleep.

By the Valar, he truly needed some rest.

**TBC…**

**Awww.** **Looks like Leggy will be home in time for Christmas.**

**So guys, I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a very MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY NEW YEAR! Drive safely if you need to travel. Don't hit any reindeers, okay? And watch out for that old man in red. He will be busy making deliveries.**

**Have a nice holiday, everyone! **


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N : Hello, guys! So sorry for the long wait. I got married last week and just returned from my honeymoon. LOL! Just kidding, guys. (Wouldn't it be nice if it were true, though?) **

**Actually, I went through hell finalizing the company's 2005 financial reports for our coming Board Meeting. Yep. _Again_. Why me? Because I'm the Accounts Executive cum Admin Officer cum Clerk cum Despatch cum Receptionist cum Tour Assistant cum…Okay, okay! I think you all got the picture. Anyway, I'm back to my normal schedule and managed to finish this chapter in two days. **

**Read on.**

**Warning** **You might need some Kleenex. **

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"Legolas? Legolas, are you well?"

The voice came very close to his ears, pulling him back to consciousness. He groaned out loud. "Oh, go away. I'm trying to sleep."

Someone chuckled. "You are all right, then. I'm so glad."

Legolas blinked, squinting a bit. "Darion?"

The young prince of Gondor grinned down at him. "Our plan works, Legolas. You are free!"

"Yes. I guess I am," the elf managed to respond with a smile, albeit weakly.

Eldarion's lips quivered, his eyes watering. With a soft cry, he wrapped his arms around Legolas and hugged him tight.

"Oh, Legolas. I was so worried! When we had to leave you behind this morning, I was…it was…it nearly killed me to do so. We didn't want to, but we had to do it. I'm so sorry that they put you under the rock. It was supposed to be me. It was supposed to be me…"

As the boy wept against his shoulder, Legolas blinked again, still dazed. He wanted to hold Eldarion, but realized that his arms were still bound behind him. He winced as Eldarion's embrace caused his injuries to scream in protest.

"Err…Darion?"

Sniffling, the boy leaned back. "Yes, Legolas?"

"Would you please…uh…untie me?"

"Oh. Sorry about that. I completely forgot," Eldarion said, grinning sheepishly as he wiped away his tears. He quickly reached down to work at the knot.

Legolas frowned when he looked around him. The wagon was no longer moving. "Where are we?"

"Inside the barn, behind the boarding house," the boy said, tugging the scarf off the elf's wrists. "We are stopping to restock our supplies—food, water, clothes, and some feed for the horses. We will leave the city after we have got everything."

Rubbing at his wrists to get the circulation going, Legolas lay back down, unable to keep himself vertical without the world spinning around him. "Where is Kel?"

"He went back to the boarding house to gather the rest of our gear and settle the bills." Eldarion unhooked a water skin from his belt. "Are you thirsty?"

"Now that you mention it—yes, I am." Legolas nodded. He took the water skin and chugged down greedily.

Keldarion suddenly appeared at the door, tossing in their packs. "Darion, stop wasting time. Go help Gallard with the water barrels. We need to make a move as soon as possible."

A bit taken aback by Keldarion's terse command, the boy sat frozen on his haunches for several heartbeats. Then, smiling ruefully, he gave Legolas' shoulder a brief squeeze before stepping out of the wagon.

"Kel." Beaming with joy, Legolas reached out for his brother, expecting to be crushed in those familiar strong arms. Instead, Keldarion just glared at him in return.

At his brother's cold and grim expression, Legolas faltered. His arms dropped, his smile wavered.

Without a word, Keldarion turned away and shut the wagon door with a bang. Shocked and hurt, Legolas could only stare, openmouthed.

_What the heck was that all about?_

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Back at Movrak's keep, the four guardsmen were still standing sentinel outside their master's treasure vault. They were highly fidgety and restless, and for good reasons.

"What the blazes is he doing in there?" one of the guards complained. "We have been waiting here for hours!"

"Maybe he is still praying for his ancestors' soul," his colleague beside him responded, looking a bit skeptical himself.

"But why is it taking him so long?"

"He must have lots of ancestors then."

"Quiet, you two!" The guard with the red hair glared at his underlings. "Be patient. Lord Movrak will come out soon."

"But I cannot wait any longer. I need to pee!"

Red rolled his eyes, muttering expletives under his breath. He glanced at the doorway, willing for their master to quickly materialize there.

"I just can't believe that our master let in no one else but Rowan and that slave boy to see his treasure," the fourth guardsman said, stifling a yawn. "If _I_ even took a step in, Lord Movrak would surely have my head!"

That caused Red to freeze. Something struck his chord all of a sudden. "The slave boy," he muttered. "I thought he belongs to Lord Movrak now."

His colleagues stared uncomprehendingly at him. "What are you talking about?"

"If Lord Movrak has bought him, why did Rowan take the slave boy away with him?" Still mumbling to himself, Red went on hurried steps towards the doorway and rushed inside. "My lord? Lord Movrak, where are you, my lord?"

No answer. There was no sign of the merchant. The rest of the guards had followed after Red. And now they were staring at him with growing anxiety.

"What's going on? Where is he?"

"I don't know. But something is wrong here." Red looked around him with narrowed eyes. "Spread out. He must be in here, somewhere."

It didn't take long for one of them to cry out in alarm. "Over here! I found some blood."

The all rushed towards the back of the vault and found their friend standing between the sarcophaguses. He pointed at the damp patches on the ground. Some were splattered against one casket wall.

"Look. It's still fresh. Wonder what happen here?"

Red already knew what happened, but chose to say nothing until he had seen the merchant with his own eyes. He placed his hands on the lid and began to push, much to his companions' horror.

"Are you mad? What are you doing?"

They were yelling at him, but Red ignored them and kept pushing until the lid fell off. When he took a look inside, his face instantly drained of all color. He straightened, gulping with distaste.

"I believe we've found him."

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The wagon door reopened a while later. Gallard and Eldarion climbed up, carrying a water barrel between them.

"Hello again, elf!" Depositing the barrel in one corner, the _draq_ walked over to squat next to Legolas. "How are you doing?"

"Not very good, I'm afraid." Legolas made a face at his bloodied and filthy state. "And I look only a little better than an orc."

"Well, hang in there, buddy," Gallard said, patting the elf's knee. "We will depart as soon as we've loaded in all our supplies."

"Will you be all right? Do you need anything?" Eldarion asked, frowning with concern.

With a small wave, Legolas replied, "No. I'll be fine. Carry on with your task. The sooner you finish, the sooner we can leave this city."

The next half hour saw Gallard and Eldarion continued to haul in two more water barrels and several large sacks containing Valar-knows-what. Legolas continued to watch their progress as he lay on a crude pallet they had thoughtfully prepared for him, the entire while hoping for his brother to appear.

But Keldarion never showed his face again until they were about to close the wagon door. He was carrying a bundle in his arms.

"Hide yourself under this," Keldarion ordered, tossing the bundle at his younger brother.

Grimacing slightly from pain, Legolas took the bundle off his chest and started to unfold it. He stared, perplexed. "It's a rug."

"Ah. I'm glad there's a part of your brain that still functions. Now do as I say," Keldarion retorted. He then turned to Gallard. "Put some of the sacks on him. Make sure he is invisible. We don't want the guards to discover that we are smuggling out a vexing stupid elf."

Legolas knew that the cover was necessary to guarantee their successful getaway, but he didn't appreciate his brother's callous way of saying it. Gallard and Eldarion exchanged looks of disbelief, not happy with it either.

"What are you all waiting for?" Keldarion barked as they kept staring at him. "Come on. We don't have much time. Get moving!"

He stormed away, leaving his three companions gaping and blinking like a bunch of idiots.

Gallard finally broke out of stupor, and went to kneel by Legolas' side. He picked up the rug. "Here. Let me help you with this."

"Thanks." With a grateful nod, Legolas let his friend drape the rug over him.

As Gallard was tugging the heavy cloth to cover Legolas' head, the _draq_ noticed the deep hurt in those silver eyes. Softly, he said, "Don't take heart, elf. Kel will come around. He can't stay angry with you forever."

"I know." Legolas smiled ruefully. "He is my big brother, remember? But I've never seen him this mad. It will take him _ages_ to cool down."

Patting the elf's shoulder with consoling words, Gallard covered him completely and worked together with Eldarion to place the packs strategically on and around him. When they finished, Legolas convincingly resembled a mound of cargo waiting to be shipped out.

"Are you all right under there?" Eldarion queried anxiously.

"Yes," came the muffled answer.

"We will take them off you right after we have cleared the gate," Eldarion said. "This won't take long, I promise."

If the elf responded to that, the two didn't hear it. So they climbed off the wagon, shut the door close and went to the front.

Legolas was left in silent darkness once again.

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They met no trouble at the city gate. The guards there did make a swift inspection of the wagon but found nothing suspicious with the freight inside. They only saw the water barrels and the large sacks, which Rowan the mercenary explained to them contained grains and expensive spices he had traded for in the city.

And then they were off, like bats storming out of a cave. Gallard drove the wagon, while his two companions were on horseback. As expected, Legolas was still not fit enough to be up and about, so he remained supine inside the wagon.

It was late afternoon, with several hours to sundown. The desert was still cloaked by the day's heat. Nevertheless, Keldarion and his company pushed hard without looking back. They needed to cover as much distance as possible before the city guards could learn what had happened to Movrak and send out an army after their heads. By the time the sun had set and the company decided to stop to rest the horses, Harodem was already leagues and leagues away behind them. So far, there was no sign of anyone following.

Legolas climbed off the wagon with Eldarion's support. He tottered over to sit on the sand with his back against the wagon wheel, under the shade of a lean-to that someone had quickly erected. A few yards away, Gallard was putting up another makeshift tent while Keldarion tended to the horses.

"Are you hurting, Legolas? Are you comfortable?" Eldarion couldn't stop fussing over his injured friend.

The elf gave the boy a wobble grin. "I feel a lot better out here than in there. Believe me, cramp space and sweltering heat combined is not your idea of a comfy journey."

"Sorry about those heavy sacks. I hope they didn't suffocate you."

"They almost did. But, hey, the ploy works, right? Those guards at the gate didn't know I was there."

"No thanks to you," Keldarion suddenly interrupted. He had just finished feeding and watering their mounts. "If you had not been so stupid, we won't even need such a risky ploy in the first place."

Deeply chastened though angered by those words, Legolas had trouble meeting his brother's steely gaze. Clearly uncomfortable, Eldarion also avoided Keldarion's eyes.

The air above them was so thick with tension for several moments until, luckily, Gallard broke it, announcing, "The tent is ready. You can rest in here, Darion."

Discarding his shirt and turban, the _draq_ walked closer towards them. "I'm going to fly back to Harodem, to see if someone is tailing us. Expect my return in an hour."

He paused to stare hard at the two elves. "Don't kill each other while I'm gone."

That warning caused Keldarion to glare ferociously in reply, which Gallard responded with a sharp glower of his own. Nodding at Legolas, the _draq_ turned, broke into a run and leapt into the air, already an eagle. He became a small dot in the sky in mere seconds.

Looking not the least bit impressed by their friend's extraordinary ability, Keldarion was back to scowling at his two charges. "Darion, get inside the tent and get some sleep. You need it."

"But…Legolas…his wounds…"

"I know about healing a lot more than you do." Keldarion gave the boy a slight push in the back. "Now, go. Rest. You look exhausted."

Eldarion opened his mouth to say more on this, but the elder elf gave him a withering look that could cause normal humans to start shaking in their boots. The young prince of Gondor was no exception. He gulped nervously and quickly scurried away for his tent.

Despite his earlier protests, Eldarion had to admit that he was indeed incredibly wearied. Lying down, he slowly became aware of the bumps and bruises that still covered his body. The heat was also getting to him, making him grow increasingly drowsy. Seconds later, he was out like a light.

Keldarion brought over his saddlebags and began to rummage through. He pulled out packets of healing herbs, along with rolls of bandages and some clean cloths. He then went to fetch a small basin and a water skin to soak the cloths. Looking grim, he bent over Legolas' injured leg and started to examine the arrow wound—speaking not word to his brother the entire time.

Legolas was equally quiet, staring anxiously at the top of Keldarion's head. Lacking his usual gentleness, his elder brother simply jabbed in his fingers and tugged out the arrowhead without giving him any warning. The pain was intense, but Legolas managed to bite down his scream of anguish before it could escape his lips and humiliate him.

_Fine._ _I deserve that_, he thought, trying to make out Keldarion's features among the black spots that were filling his vision. His brother was now diligently cleaning the wound.

"You have rights to be angry with me," Legolas said, breaking the silence. "I was wrong to make you worry. Forgive me."

A sharp glare was Keldarion's only reply. He turned his attention back to the task at hand, prodding at his brother's wound none too gently. There was no sign of blood poisoning or infection, so it didn't need to be cauterized. Not for the time being, anyway. Instead, he slapped some crushed _althelas_ on the wound before wrapping it with bandages.

"I was only doing what I thought was right, Kel."

Still no reply.

Legolas began to loose his temper. "Will you stop with that long face already? Everything works out _fine_! We found Darion! We got him out of there! We got _ourselves_ out of there! Everyone is safe, and now everyone's happy!"

It was totally unexpected. The next thing Legolas knew, his head was snapped to one side and blood was trickling form the corner of his mouth. He stared, shocked, when he realized what had just happened.

His elder brother had viciously backhanded him.

"_Happy_? You think I'm happy?" Keldarion was hissing in anger, his face red. "Do I even _look_ happy to you?"

"Look. Kel…"

"No, _you_ look, you annoying stupid brat! I've been saving your hide over and over and over for ages you start taking me granted. You take actions at your will, be damned the consequences, not listening to what I tell you, always expecting that I will come to undo the mess that you create. What am I to you exactly, Legolas? Your _keeper_? Always at your beck and call when things go wrong?"

"But I never thought that of you."

Keldarion gave him a sharp rap on the head. "Why have you been so stupid? I thought I taught you better than that!"

"Kel, stop it."

"Use your brain, Legolas! It is there for a purpose, not to just fill in the void!" Keldarion jabbed his index finger repeatedly against his brother's temple to prove his point.

"That's enough!" Legolas exploded. He swung his fist, hitting Keldarion square on his left cheek. That caused the elder elf to stumble backwards.

Keldarion instantly righted himself. He touched his smarting cheek, finding a bleeding cut there. Growling, he grabbed a fistful of Legolas' shirtfront and jerked him closer until their faces were inches apart. "You listen to me, you ungrateful little imp. You put me through all that again and I'll kill you!"

Chests heaving, the brothers stared at each other, unaware of everything around them. It was as if time had stood still. One of them was visibly trembling with fright, while the other was shaking with spent fury. And both of them had tears brimming in their eyes.

Terribly shaken, Keldarion promptly released his brother and leapt to his feet. He started running, away from their camp across the still hot desert. He didn't care where he was going. He just wanted to be out of anyone's eyes and ears.

When he thought no one could see or hear him, he collapsed to his knees in the sand, buried his face in his hands, and began to sob uncontrollably.

He was like that for a long time, even after the sun had fully set.

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Gallard still had not returned when Keldarion walked back into camp. His brother remained where he had left him earlier, looking so small and frail as he sat there in melancholic silence, staring numbly at the stars.

A huge lump formed in Keldarion's throat at the sight. He had to clear it to ask, "Are you hungry?"

Legolas slowly turned to look at him. He nodded.

Rummaging through his pack, Keldarion took out a familiar looking sack. He tossed it to his brother. "Here. This is the reason why you failed yourself. Eat to your heart's content."

Catching the sack in mid-air, Legolas gave his brother a brief meaningful gaze. He peered into the sack to find the muffins and orange cake he had bought at the bakery only the day before. Still not speaking, he reached inside and began eating like someone who had not eaten for a week.

Watching his brother wolfed down the muffins, realizing how hungry he must have been, Keldarion's heart broke again. But he was still too angry to let Legolas off the hook that easily.

"You gave me the orange cake to mollify me, didn't you?"

Legolas stopped eating. He looked up, guilt written all over his face.

With a hard stare, Keldarion added, "I don't take bribes, brother. I would appreciate it if you don't try that again."

Nodding, Legolas looked away and continued to eat, much slower this time. After the third muffin, he took a long drink from a water skin, consciously aware of Keldarion's gimlet stare. Curious, he lowered the water skin and glanced at his brother. "What?"

"You stink," Keldarion shortly replied, wrinkling his nose.

Legolas' face fell. He quickly took a sniff at himself and had to agree. He smelt like a pig.

That was the last straw. He knew he won't win any beauty contest, knew he resembled a walking rubbish bin, but to hear his brother frankly remarked on it…

Well, _that_ hurt. A lot.

To his great dismay, his tears gushed over like a broken tap as he started weeping like a babe. All the horror he had gone through during those long hours in Movrak's captivity came crashing back on him, mixing with his current hurt and remorse. He took several deep breaths to gather his wits but the dam had already burst beyond repair. Everything came up to surface all at once, laid out completely bare in the open.

_Nerves._ _It's just high-strung nerves. So get a grip, Legolas! You're being a complete idiot!_ he thought angrily to himself.

Still whimpering, Legolas soaked a cloth and made a clumsy job wiping his face clean. He was covered with layers of dirt and grime, and it took thorough scrubbings to rid them off his skin. Of course, his hair was one big disaster. It was badly tangled and caked with vomit and filth, so he decided to chop them off. He was reaching for the nearest blade when a hand stopped him.

"I'll see to the hair," Keldarion queitly said, putting down the pail of water he was carrying. "You just sit still. I'll take care of everything."

Legolas blinked, nodding dazedly. He thought he was losing his mind, but it _was_ Keldarion who had just spoken. His elder brother was even now running gentle hands through his long dirty tresses, trying patiently to unravel the tangles. His itchy scalp felt cool when water was poured down his head, making him all wet.

Someone else might find it terribly embarrassing, but Legolas was so grateful he didn't care if anyone were watching.

_What a way to uphold my ego. Look, everyone! My brother is giving me a bath!_

After he finished washing the hair, Keldarion turned his attention to his brother's torso. He helped Legolas strip to the waist and began inspecting the blisters and blue-black bruises. They looked terribly painful, but the Ithilien lord complained not even once. When their eyes met briefly, Legolas even mustered a small smile, trying valiantly to play down the pain.

Never failed to be astounded by his brother's strong resilience and stubbornness, Keldarion shook his head and reached out for a wet cloth. He gently wiped the remains of blood and dirt off Legolas' face, pausing at the tears on his brother's cheek before wiping them away too. He rinsed the cloth and gingerly ran it across Legolas' belly, chest and shoulders, and then down his arms and under his armpits.

"That tickles," Legolas complained, jerking away slightly.

"Oh, be quiet," Keldarion retorted, keeping hold of his brother's arm to keep him still. He continued with his work, running the damp cloth all over Legolas' back and neck, giving extra attention to the area behind the ears.

"You are taking this job too seriously," again Legolas complained, but with a touch of amusement in his voice this time.

In response, Keldarion gave his brother a playful swipe at the back of the head, also smiling. From his pack, he took out a small pot that contained the juice from _aloera_ plant, which was good to ease burns and blisters.

When the gel-like liquid was spread onto his skin, Legolas sighed with pleasure as the stinging pain quickly subsided. Afterwards, when his hair had been toweled dry, he was given a clean shirt to wear.

"Now lie down. Try to get some sleep," Keldarion said, pushing until his brother's head rested against a folded blanket. Already nodding off from sheer exhaustion, Legolas didn't bother to respond. He fell asleep almost instantly.

Even then, Keldarion still had a bit more to do. He got rid off Legolas' soiled leggings and began to wash the trace of urine from his brother's crotch and legs. Then he put a pair of fresh leggings and his own spare boots on him.

Drowsy himself, Keldarion put away all the healing supplies and lay down next to his brother. He drifted into a doze, only to wake up shortly afterwards when Gallard returned.

The _draq_ brought with him troubling news. A squadron of Harodem army had been seen leaving the city gate, highly in pursuit of Rowan and company.

"We need to move on," Gallard said. "They will catch up with us if we linger much longer."

Therefore, they quickly roused their sleeping companions and broke camp. Not long after, they were back on the road.

They rode hard all through the night. But by dawn, their horses were so spent they refused to go any further. Reluctantly, Keldarion gave the order to set up camp. He desperately wanted to continue on to stay ahead of the Harodem's hunting party. Still, he knew there was no use killing their mounts over it.

Like before, he and Gallard respectively took over the tasks of tending to the horses and pitching up tents. Eldarion went into the wagon to assist Legolas down. Seconds later, the boy scrambled back out, looking panic-stricken.

"Kel! Something's wrong with Legolas. He said he can't move!"

**TBC…**

**Err…cliffie anyone? He he…**

**A/N : Many of you might not realize that a friend of mine has created a Yahoo Group for my stories (thanks Rutu!). It is called the Manyan Chronicles Group. I've just put up there the forbidden story 'Tormented' _and_ the rejected one, 'Triple Jeopardy'. I've also posted a pic of my favorite nephew, Kimi. Even one of the members has put up some fantastic pictures of the imaginary Keldarion! Wow!**

**So, come on everyone! Join us. Check my bio-page for the link.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Selamat** **pagi! Err…I mean, Good Morning. (It's 9.23 am here when I post this). **

**Here's the new installment. Beware of a…Well, yeah. It's another cliffie. **

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Keldarion dropped everything and broke into a run. Pushing past the wild-eyed Eldarion, he dashed into the wagon and knelt down, bending over his brother.

"Legolas? How do you fare?"

Legolas moaned in answer. He was lying on his side, curled into a ball, his fists pressed against his belly.

"Tell me, Legolas, what's wrong?" Keldarion said, pressing the back of his hand against his brother's clammy forehead. It was cool, no sign of fever. "Darion said you can't move."

Amid his groans, Legolas feebly chuckled. "Oh, I can move. I just can't get up."

Frowning, Keldarion noticed that Legolas kept kneading his belly. "Your stomach is upsetting you?"

Legolas nodded, his teeth gritting. "I think I'm having a cramp…or something like it."

He shut his eyes and broke into another low groan when the pain intensified. "_Unh_…Elbereth, help me. I shouldn't have…eaten those..._unh_…bloody muffins!"

"Maybe so. But I'm sure this has nothing to do with what you ate. Lift your shirt and let me check."

Keldarion couldn't hide his dismay when he saw the bruises on Legolas' abdomen. They had darkened into the glaring colors of ripe aubergine, and felt too warm under his touch.

"That bad, huh?" Legolas noticed the odd expression on his brother's face.

"A lot worse than I thought," Keldarion agreed, knowing it was no use hiding the truth from his brother. "You have serious internal injuries from the look of this."

"Kel, what can we do?" asked Eldarion from the doorway, where he hovered worriedly with Gallard.

After a quick thought, Keldarion told them, "Go prepare a pallet for him to lie down outside. And make a fire. I am going to need it."

The two scrambled away without delay, anxious to do his bidding. Turning back to his patient, Keldarion pressed his fingers along Legolas' ribcage, over his belly, and went lower until his brother cried out in anguish.

"Blast it! That hurts!"

"Sorry." Keldarion looked grim. "So, they also hit you below the belt."

"Oh, that was Movrak's doing," Legolas replied with a shrug. "He didn't appreciate the joke I made."

Shaking his head, Keldarion moved his fingers to Legolas' back, right over his kidney. "Does this hurt?"

"Not so much. But I…err…" Legolas went crimson. "Well, it hurt a _lot_ when I…uh…"

"What?"

Legolas squirmed. "I wet myself again."

Keldarion blinked. He looked closely and noticed the damp patch on Legolas' leggings. He tried hard to keep a straight face lest he hurt his brother's feelings.

"No, that's all right. Laugh all you want," Legolas said, looking extremely sheepish. "This reminds me so much of my awkward childhood. Remember the last time I wet my bed?"

"Yes." Keldarion grinned. And then he frowned. "Wait a minute. That was _my_ bed."

The brothers stared at each other and broke into a fit of giggles. When their laughter died down, their gazes were still locked, sending love and forgiveness back and forth. All remorse, anger and hurt from yesterday fell away at their feet and left forgotten. No words were needed, but everything was fine once again between them.

"Well, now." Keldarion cleared his throat, still smiling. "You mind if I checked?"

At Legolas' consent, Keldarion pulled down his brother's leggings and had a look. All trace of humor vanished from his face. "There's blood, Legolas. You were pissing blood."

"Oh," Legolas responded with a grimace. Actually, he was not too surprised to hear that. "No wonder it hurt like bloody Mordor."

"And it will hurt even more if we did nothing about it." Covering his brother, Keldarion asked, "Has the pain lessened? Do you think you can get up now?"

Legolas gamely tried. He pushed onto his hands to make himself rise, wincing from the effort, but fell back to the floor with a sharp cry. The pain was returning with a vengeance, intensifying in tenfold. He lay writhing in that fetal position, cursing at Movrak over and over.

"Easy, easy," Keldarion soothed, brushing the sweat-soaked hair off his brother's forehead. He then wrapped an arm around Legolas' shoulders and placed the other under his knees.

"What…what are you doing?" Legolas asked, dazed.

"Don't fret, brother. You are still not too heavy for me to carry," Keldarion said, admitting a small but distracted smile. He lifted and stood with a slight grunt. Cradling his burden, he gingerly maneuvered through the narrow doorway and climbed down the short flight of steps. Quickly, he went to set his brother onto the sleeping pallet that their two companions had spread for him under the lean-to.

Overwhelmed by acute pain, Legolas instinctively curled into a ball and rocked himself, back and forth. Eldarion dropped down next to him, his face as white as sheet as he fussed over his friend.

"Sweet Elbereth! Kel, what's wrong with him?"

Choosing not to answer, Keldarion gave the boy a towel and a water skin. "Here. Wet the cloth and place it on his head. That might comfort him a bit."

"But how…?"

"Darion, please. No more questions," Keldarion retorted, unable to hide his impatience. "See to Legolas and let me do my work. I have to mix a potion for him to drink."

Eldarion stared back, his eyes wet. Small tremors shook his body. Apparently, the young prince of Gondor was deeply terrified, very close to breaking apart watching his friend suffered so.

Sighing, Keldarion reached over and squeezed the boy's shoulder reassuringly. He forced a smile on his lips, trying not to show his own fear. "Legolas will be fine, Darion. I promise you this."

Nodding, even though he harbored some doubts, Eldarion blinked away his tears and focused his attention back to Legolas. Assured that his brother was in good care, Keldarion headed straight for the fire which Gallard had built up only a few feet away.

"How is he?" the _draq_ asked quietly as he stoked the fire using a long stick.

Squatting next to his friend, Keldarion glanced briefly behind him before he whispered back, "It's bad. He has a burst spleen, that much I suspect. There are signs that he is bleeding internally. There may also be some blood clots, I'm not hundred percent sure."

Gallard also glanced worriedly at their injured companion. "What must we do?"

"Pray that he won't succumb. Though, he is too stubborn for that anyway. I will make him a healing tonic. I hope to repair what damages Movrak had done to Legolas' innards, damn the man," Keldarion muttered, his face red with renewed anger. "I'm going to need your help with something."

"Sure. What can I do?"

"Get me a small rock, about this size." Keldarion made the measurement with both hands, holding them a foot apart. "Try to find a smooth one, if you can."

Not even bothering to ask what the rock was for, the _draq_ changed form and took flight. From the air, his razor-sharp eyes busily scanned the desert ground. There was plenty of sand and gravel and some dead bushes. But a rock?

_Ah, there is one right over there!_

Gallard swooped down and landed gracefully on his human feet. He bent and picked up the oblong-shaped rock. Weighing it in his hands, he found it quite heavy. But it was smooth enough to perform whatever task Keldarion had in mind.

As the camp was not too far from where he was standing, only a couple of hundred yards away, Gallard chose to run back. When he got there, Eldarion still hovered over the writhing Legolas. Armed with a bowl and a pestle, Keldarion was pounding away like mad, trying to bring out the juice of some unidentified leaves and roots.

"What should I do with this?" asked Gallard.

"Put it into the fire," Keldarion answered after a brief look, satisfied with the _draq_'s finding.

Though he had tons of questions, Gallard kept his curiosity to himself and did as he was told, sending sparks flying when he let the rock drop.

"Kel, he is getting worse," Eldarion suddenly voiced out. He had his hands full keeping Legolas still. The ailing elf had begun to thrash about.

Nodding, Keldarion poured in a bit of water, stirred some more, and went to his brother's side. Holding the bowl in one hand, he gripped Legolas' shoulder with the other. "Here, brat. You need to take a drink."

"_Drink_?" Despite his pain, Legolas managed to chuckle. "What, you want a repeat performance? Let me slip on a diaper first."

Gallard and Eldarion exchanged puzzled looks but Keldarion was grinning widely, glad to know that Legolas could still joke at a time like this.

"I'd prefer to leave this diaper business to your wife," Keldarion teased. He placed the bowl against his brother's lips. "Drink, Legolas. It doesn't taste as bad as it smell."

Tentatively, Legolas took the first sip. Convinced that the taste won't make him gag, he gulped down the rest of the healing remedy. He hugged his tummy when he finished and resumed the fetal position, moaning all the while.

Telling Eldarion to keep bathing Legolas' head with the damp cloth, Keldarion unsheathed his sword and stepped to the fire. Using the blade, he jabbed and prodded until the small rock tumbled out onto the sand. Sliding his sword back into its scabbard, the elf shrugged off his cloak and wrapped the scorching rock with it, hot steams rising and all.

Legolas' eyes widened when his brother walked purposely towards him with the bundled-up rock. "What the bloody heck…"

"It's all right. I've learned this unique method from the Corsairs," Keldarion said, kneeling down. "They use hot stone to ease injuries to the innards."

Legolas scooted backward in fear. "What are you going to do with that blasted thing? Swing and ram it up my ass?"

Hearing this, Gallard couldn't help but broke into gleeful chortle. Eldarion was left blinking like an owl. He didn't trust the look of that odd bundle either.

"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous." Keldarion rolled his eyes. He grabbed Legolas' arm before his brother could bolt. "Relax, brat. I have no intention to harm you, you know that. This may give you some discomfort at first, but you will feel a lot better afterwards."

Legolas still looked suspicious. "How does the blasted rock work? It's blazing hot!"

"Exactly. It only works when it's hot," Keldarion said. "Try to lie on your back as straight as you can. Don't bend too much. Gallard, hold this."

Handing the bundle to the _draq_, Keldarion reached down to unbutton his brother's shirt. He parted the hems, leaving the flat plane of Legolas' stomach into full view. And then he tugged down the waistband of Legolas' leggings, just low enough to preserve his modesty.

His hands fisting at his sides, Legolas stared beseechingly at his brother. "Kel…I…I don't think…"

Keldarion understood his brother's doubt. With a kind smile, he gently stroke Legolas' sweaty temple. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"But…"

"I could never kill you, brother. Not in a million years. Forget what I said yesterday."

Legolas was quiet for several moments before he mustered a wobbled grin. "It's not that."

"Then, what is it?"

"You had better hurry up. My bladder is acting up again."

"Oh." Reclaiming the rock from Gallard, Keldarion told the _draq_ to support Legolas' shoulders. "And Darion, you hold down his legs."

"Is this really necessary? I'm not going to struggle," Legolas protested when they wrapped their arms securely around him.

"Oh, but I think you will," Keldarion responded. Holding the bundle by its knot on top, he smiled down at his brother. "Holler if you want, but please don't sock me in the eye."

"Just get on with it, will you?" Legolas retorted, his eyes rolling.

With steady hands, Keldarion lowered the rock and pressed its bottom gently against his brother's belly.

"Son of a warg!" Legolas yelped. It was not too hot, thanks to the wrapping, but still he jerked about and cursed in colorful languages.

"Stop struggling!" Keldarion scolded, pushing down Legolas' thighs with his knee. He lifted the rock and pressed it back down, choosing another spot this time. "It hurts, I know, but only for a short while. The pain will disappear after your innards have absorbed the heat."

"Why don't you just put me back under Movrak's stupid rock? It amounts to the same thing!" Legolas yelled, still couldn't stop struggling. "_Ai_! Blast it all!"

He continued to curse, foul and loud. Busily pressing and lifting after every ten seconds, Keldarion tried to ignore his brother's crass ramblings. But even his temper was getting considerably thin these days.

"Shut your mouth or I'll wash it with lye soap!" he warned.

"Oh, save me the threats!" Legolas shot back. "Movrak already poured a bucketful of lye soap down my gullet!"

Keldarion went still, horrified. "He did _what_?"

"Soap water." Legolas sighed, resigned at last. "To make me talk, he forced me to drink soap water made of lye soap. _Lots_ of it."

Gallard screwed his face in distaste, while Eldarion gasped out loud. His eyes watering, the boy covered his mouth and leaped to his feet. The other three watched as he left the camp at a run and went stumbling to his knees in the sand. They didn't need to see his face to know that he was crying.

"Oh, bummer." Legolas was stricken. "I never meant to let him find out about it. He has had enough already."

"Right, look who's talking." Gallard was amused. "Legolas, if you promise not to kick your brother, I will go and soothe our young friend."

"Go ahead. See to Darion. Talk some sense into him. I'll be fine." Legolas waved the _draq_ away. He was indeed feeling slightly better. Whatever painful cramps he had just now was thankfully receding. That only left the constant soreness in his guts.

Didn't need to be told twice, Gallard released his friend and rose. He approached Eldarion on silent feet and sat next to the still weeping boy. Seconds later, he was striking up a heartfelt conversation.

"A blasted _draq_ gives a pep talk to a young human—I never thought to see the day." Keldarion chuckled. He turned back to his brother. "A bucketful of lye soap, huh? No wonder your stomach is such a mess."

Legolas grunted as Keldarion pressed the rock lightly against his side. "I made a lot worse mess when I went horribly sick all over Movrak's floor. It was not pretty. The mess, I mean. Not the floor."

"I know. _I'm_ the one who cleaned up the evidence, didn't I?" Chuckling, Keldarion moved the rock below Legolas' navel.

"The Corsairs taught you this strange technique?" Legolas asked, finding it hard to believe that the Corsairs would even bother to share their healing knowledge with their prisoners.

"They didn't actually teach me, but I have seen enough to understand how it works."

"I never knew a hot rock can heal."

"Not _heal_, exactly," Keldarion explained. "Every rock and stone has minerals, you see. Our internal system reacts to them, particularly when they are heated up and then pressed close to our skin. The Corsairs fully believe that, besides bringing down swellings or bruises, hot stone also helps repair messed-up blood circulations, which also includes blood clots."

Legolas stared. "What gibberish are you talking about?"

"You don't understand what I'm saying?"

"Not even a scrap."

"Never mind." Keldarion sighed. "I can't fully comprehend it myself. It's purely technical."

"You mean, you are not totally sure yourself?" Legolas was not impressed. "Huh. So I'm just your bloody experiment, am I?"

Keldarion grinned. "Yes. Flattered, aren't you?"

"Flattered, my butt." Legolas scowled. He went silent for a while, watching his brother worked. "Kel? Seriously, how bad is my condition? Am I going to die from this?"

"Stubborn as you are? I'm sure you'll live to see another century."

The rock was already losing heat, so Keldarion put it away and took out his pot of _aloera_ juice. He spread the soothing gel all over Legolas' chest and belly. "To be honest, I still have reasons to worry. You have burst your spleen, I believe."

"My _spleen_? How can you tell?"

"What, you don't believe me? I can cut you open and show it to you."

"Err…No, thank you." Legolas turned deathly pale to that notion. "Has the hot stone mended it, you think?"

"I can't guarantee that, unfortunately," Keldarion replied, buttoning down his brother's shirt. "The tonic I gave you will stop the internal bleeding, at least. But the spleen I'll leave until we are back at Minas Tirith, where we have all the time and instrument to treat it. We may have to take it out, though, if worse come to worst."

"_WHAT_! Take the spleen out?" Legolas sputtered with shock.

"Relax. You can still lead a normal life without a spleen."

"Easy for you to say. It's not _your_ spleen."

Laughing, Keldarion draped a light blanket over his brother, covering him to his waist. "I'm going to change your leggings."

Legolas made a face. "Don't bother. I will only soil it again."

Tilting his head, Keldarion studied his brother's glum expression. "It doesn't bother me, Legolas. I'm your brother. You would do the same for me if our positions were reversed."

Legolas' eyes were doleful. "I'm not as loyal as you are, Kel. I only give you grief, one after another."

"That's not true and you know it," said Keldarion. "Talk that way again and I'll make you eat my boots!"

As Keldarion changed him into clean leggings, _again_, Legolas gazed at his brother's kind handsome face, thinking how incredibly lucky he was to have Keldarion as a brother. He was not exactly perfect, but no matter how angry or disappointed he was, Keldarion never failed to do his brotherly duties. No matter what it takes, he was always there to save the day.

In a way, Keldarion was right. Legolas _had_ been taking his older brother for granted.

"Kel, I'm very sorry for putting you all through that," Legolas softly said. "It won't happen again."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Keldarion gently rebuked with a smile. His job done, he went to sit by his brother's head. "You know, when I first saw you in that house, I was about ready to chop off some human heads. But when _you_ told me to leave, I felt like murdering you instead."

"I'm so very sorry, Kel. I truly am."

"I'm sorry too, especially about yesterday." Keldarion grinned. "That was a nice right hook you gave me. Sent me flat on my ass."

"It won't be the last." Legolas broke into a wide yawn. "Hmm. Why am I so sleepy all of a sudden?"

"Ah, the tonic must be taking effect then." Keldarion was mighty pleased to see Legolas blinking hard, trying to stay awake.

"It won't…" Another yawn. "…make me sick? Like the other potions you made?"

"No, but it will keep you sedated for several hours." Gently, Keldarion rubbed his brother's eyebrows. "Rest, Legolas. Your body truly needs it."

When Gallard and Eldarion returned, Legolas was already passed out cold.

"How is he?" the _draq_ asked, taking his arm from around the boy's stoop shoulders.

"As you can see, he is asleep. But it will be a good healing sleep." Keldarion glanced at Eldarion. The boy still looked a bit shaken. "Are you all right, Darion?"

Eldarion gave a last sniffle and nodded. "I'm fine, I guess. Sorry I got spooked. I couldn't stand to hear how Legolas has suffered for me."

"No one would think less of you for that." Standing, Keldarion gripped the boy's shoulders. "You are still young, Darion. There is a long path ahead of you. Don't be too quick to give in after what you've seen and experienced."

"I promise I'll try not to," Eldarion said, sheepishly looking at his feet. "But I'm going to need lots of help. Just look at the mess I've created. My father won't be too happy with me when I get home."

"Oh, absolutely." Keldarion grinned. "But that is how a true father goes. He worries, he nags, he scolds. It's his job. Despite all his sternness, Darion, your father loves you very much."

"I know that, but sometimes he is too stubborn to even listen to me." Eldarion sighed forlornly.

Gallard snorted. "So where do you think you got your genes from? You can be as obstinate as a mule yourself."

The boy gave the _draq_ a dirty look. "Very funny."

Keldarion gave the boy a slight push towards the tent. "Now go to sleep. Take all the rest you can get."

Eldarion did not protest. With a tired wave, he walked to the tent and crawled in.

"I'll go check our tail," Gallard announced before he changed form and flew into the air.

The camp suddenly felt too quiet with the _draq_ gone. After dousing the fire, Keldarion went to check the horses. Even though not well pleased by their sandy surroundings, the four beasts were doing fine. In fact, Legolas' black stallion was seriously having the hot for Keldarion's mount, trying to bite the white mare's neck to urge her to mate.

"Down, boy," Keldarion scolded, pushing the stallion away from the mare. Annoyed, the beast turned and whacked the elf across the chest with his snout.

Keldarion swore. He leaped out of the way when the snout came again to wallop his head. "Fine! Do whatever you want, you bloody lusty animal," he grumbled. "Just don't get her with foal this time. I already have two from you in my stable yard."

Keldarion left the horses to their business. Needing rest himself, he went to sit beside his brother, leaning his back against the wagon. Staring at the rising sun, he tried to come out with what to say to his own wife when they got home.

Nope. He didn't think Aislinn would be too happy to see him, either.

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"Keldarion! Awake!"

He instantly jerked back to consciousness when someone called his name urgently. Sheer boredom must have lulled him into a doze. The _draq_ was standing right in front of him, arms akimbo.

"Gallard? What…?"

"We have to get moving _now_," the _draq_ hurriedly said. "We have a big problem."

By then, Eldarion had also stirred and was emerging from his tent. "What's going on?"

"Is the army catching up on us?" Keldarion quickly got to his feet and went to scan the horizon where they had come from earlier. He saw no signs of the army.

"We've got _bigger_ problem than that." Gallard couldn't hide his panic. "A huge sandstorm is heading this way. And we are right in its path."

**TBC….**

**A/N : 'Hot stone' is a Malay traditional healing method. Mostly, new mothers use it to ease their stomach muscles after a recent birth, and for the blood circulations. It is also good to be put under our feet. (Make sure the hot stone is carefully wrapped in thick cloth, or you will be scorched!). I've tried it several times. It's pure bliss!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Helloooo! Incredibly sorry for the delay but I'm having problems with my boyfriend so I kinda lost the mood to write. But here I am, back to give Leggy and the gang more adventure!**

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"Sandstorm?"

For several heartbeats, Keldarion was struck dumb. He stared stupidly at the direction Gallard was pointing. The telltale signs of the approaching storm were now visible in the horizon. The afternoon breeze was turning into a full-blown gale, tugging roughly at their clothes. The sun slowly disappeared behind the mushroom-like cloud that loomed larger and larger, moving fast towards their camp.

"_Holy sh_…!" Swearing, Keldarion broke out of his stupor when he recognized the danger. He instantly fell into commanding mode, hurling orders left and right.

"Darion! Go fill as many water skins as you can! Gallard, gather our packs! Take only the necessaries and leave everything else that we can live without. We must travel light to outrun the storm, so we are abandoning the wagon."

"But where will we go? Where will we hide?" Terrified, Eldarion was still glued to his spot, gaping at the menacing clouds.

"I know just a place, not far from here," Gallard replied, already busy dismantling the tents.

"Then I'll leave it to you to lead the way," Keldarion said, shoving his medical supplies into his saddlebag. He turned to their youngest companion and snapped, "Move it, Darion! See to the water skins while we still have time!"

Eldarion moved. He grabbed all the water skins they had in record speed. His arms full, he bolted into the wagon and headed straight for the water barrel in the corner. He quickly refilled them, one after another, trying hard to ignore the eerie rumbling sound that the storm was making

Outside, Keldarion and Gallard worked together to distribute their packs to the four horses.

"What about him?" The _draq_ gestured towards Legolas. The younger elf was still peacefully asleep, as if nothing was amiss.

"Leave him be. He is in no condition to do anything much," Keldarion answered as he tied another pack to his mount.

"But is he in the condition to ride?"

Keldarion halted, and then shook his head. "He's in no favorable condition whatsoever. Period."

The elf resumed his task, adding ruefully, "Legolas is still in too much pain. His injuries will slow us down."

"We are not going to leave him behind, are we?" Gallard asked, anxiously scanning his friend's face.

"Oh, I'd love to. _If_ I wanted my father to skin me alive, that is," the elf quipped with a quick grin. "Worry not, _draq_. That silly brother of mine will ride with me."

His task finished, Keldarion rushed to the wagon. "Darion? Are you done yet?"

"Almost done," Eldarion called out in reply. "Only one more left."

Keldarion helped the boy carried the water skins to the horses. He glanced furtively at the big, fat brown cloud that looked as if it were chasing them.

"It's getting closer. We had better make our move _now_."

After everything was secured to their mounts, Keldarion pushed Eldarion towards his own white mare.

"You ride her. She is swift like the wind," the elf said, giving the boy a leg up. Gallard was already atop another horse, one of the two that had been pulling the wagon.

"What about you? And Legolas?" Eldarion asked.

In reply, Keldarion knelt by his brother and gathered the slumbering elf into his arms, blankets and all. Cradling his burden, he effortlessly mounted Legolas' horse that had been waiting faithfully near its master, satisfied by its previous romping with the mare. Muscular and powerful, the elven-bred black stallion would have no trouble bearing the weight of the two brothers at top speed.

With a slight moan, Legolas stirred awake. "What's happening? Why…?"

"Rest easy, brat. It's just a sandstorm," Keldarion reassured, wrapping one arm around his brother's middle.

"Oh," Legolas mumbled as he blinked, not fully comprehending. "Wake me up when it's all over."

"Will do." Smiling, Keldarion watched as his brother faded back to sleep. He pulled the blanket over Legolas' head and face to keep away the flying sand and debris. Turning around, he noticed that Gallard and Eldarion had already donned their turbans, the long cloth covering the lower half of their faces.

"All right, Gallard, show us this place," Keldarion had to shout against the howling wind. "But wouldn't it be better if you fly? You have the chance to save yourself if we failed to survive this storm."

"And let you all have the fun?" The _draq_ smirked. "Not bloody likely."

With a short cry, he snapped the reins and his mount shot forward. Keldarion and Eldarion followed suit, keeping not more than a horse-length behind him. The other spare horse sped along with them, more out of panic than from the pull of its long leash tied to Gallard's saddle.

Around them, the day had abruptly turned into night. Everything had gone dark, cutting short their vision into only a few yards. How the _draq_ managed to find his way through the murky space was a total mystery.

Having trouble keeping the cloth over his nose and mouth because of the harsh wind, Eldarion was coughing as heavy dust clogged his nostrils.

"How much further, Gallard?" the boy yelled, almost expecting to ride smack into an unexpected object in their path.

"Not far ahead!" the _draq_ shouted back. "Keep close to me before you lost yourself in this blasted soup!"

Keldarion looked down when his brother suddenly gave a deep moan. The wild ride must have been causing Legolas some pain.

Giving his brother a reassuring squeeze, Keldarion kicked his mount to urge it to go faster. He wanted more than anything to stop and ease Legolas' agony, but to be out there in the open was completely suicidal. The storm was strong enough to move a sand dune, let alone a small group of weary travelers. They all could be buried alive!

It felt like hours when Gallard suddenly cried out, "There! That's the place I've been telling you about. See it?"

"See what?" Eldarion asked, blinking sand out of his eyes.

"That's _it_?" Keldarion stared. "A mere ditch?"

"What ditch? Where?" The young human still couldn't see it, even though he squinted hard for better vision.

"It's not a ditch. It's a trench," Gallard protested. He reined in his mount just a few feet from the edge and quickly leaped to the ground.

"Same difference." Shrugging, Keldarion also dismounted. With Legolas held firm within his arms, he looked down at the narrow strip of opened earth below. It was not too deep, maybe about seven or eight feet down. But it was wide enough to accommodate four horses, two elves, a _draq_, and a very antsy young human.

"Blast it! I can't see a thing!" Eldarion fumed, rubbing his smarting eyes. He unceremoniously tumbled off his horse in his haste to dismount. Sighing, Gallard went to the boy and pulled him to his feet.

"Follow me. And watch your step," the _draq_ said, dragging Eldarion down the trench with one hand while the other kept yanking at the horses' reins. The animals were kicking and neighing restlessly, thoroughly spooked by the storm. Only Legolas' stallion showed not a trace of reaction, completely unruffled as he trotted along behind them all.

"Here, sit down." Gallard pushed until Eldarion sat huddled in one corner. "I will unpack our gear."

"Is this place safe? I mean, aren't we going to get buried alive in here?" The young prince of Gondor stared nervously at the walls of earth surrounding him.

"Oh, we will," Gallard answered, half-seriously. When he saw the raw terror in the boy's eyes, the _draq_ quickly added, "If this storm never let up, that is. Relax, Darion. We will fare better in here than out there. It would take days to fill up this trench with sand. The wind blows horizontally, not vertical."

"Huh?"

Gallard paused when he realized that Eldarion didn't fully understand him. "Don't you learn geography in Gondor, boy?"

"What the heck is _geography_?"

Gallard rolled his eyes. "Forget I ask that."

As the _draq_ rushed away to unload their supplies, Keldarion bent down to place Legolas in Eldarion's care. "Keep an eye on him. I'm going to see to the horses."

The storm was now on top of them, and their already murky surroundings darkened to pitch black. Somehow, Keldarion and Gallard could still see what they were about. They tossed all their valuables at Eldarion's way—water skins, sacks of food, rolls of blankets, medicines, weapons.

To ease their panic, Keldarion used some thick clothes to wrap around the horses' heads. Legolas' stallion and his own mare endured the treatment without protest, immediately easing down. But the other two horses were a bit harder to appease. They neighed shrilly and jerked like mad against the reins, their eyes rolling in their sockets. With his smooth talk, the elf managed to calm one of the two. The other one snapped the reins off Keldarion's grasp, bolted out of the trench, and vanished into the storm.

"Silly bugger," Keldarion muttered. Gripping the other reins, he yanked them to a jutting rock and tied the long leashes around it. With the horses now secured, he dropped down beside Eldarion. Gallard took his place on the boy's other side. The young human looked as if he had trouble breathing.

Quickly, Keldarion unrolled the blankets and draped them over their heads, creating an impromptu tent. It was crude but provided enough protection to ward off the suffocating dust. Beneath the blankets, the four companions sat huddled together, shoulder to shoulder. Gallard hugged Eldarion against his side, murmuring words of encouragement when the boy couldn't stop trembling. Keldarion had gathered Legolas back into his arms and was checking him all over, concerned by his brother's condition.

Legolas was still out cold. It was indeed a strong sedative that Keldarion had given him earlier. Yet, Legolas' forehead was creased into a deep frown. A sure sign that he was in pain.

"How is he?" Gallard quietly asked. He could see the worry etched on Keldarion's features. The elf was glowing so bright they didn't need to burn anything for a light!

"Not too good, I'm afraid," Keldarion replied, reaching down to prod Legolas' abused belly. "Our recent ride has only added to his discomfort."

"Is it bad?" Gallard peered down at Legolas' pale and clammy face. "I thought the hot stone treatment has taken care of the swellings."

"It has, but one single attempt won't cure all. It needs to be applied regularly until the swellings are fully healed. It's his ruptured spleen that worries me the most, though."

"_Ruptured_ spleen?" Eldarion blanched. Only now he realized the extent of Legolas' injuries.

The elf nodded. "By right, the spleen should have been removed before the damage could spread to his other organs."

"_Remove_ the spleen?" Eldarion sounded as if he might faint on the spot.

Keldarion glanced up and noticed the boy's green face. "Don't worry, Darion. I will not do it here."

"But, why not? It has to be done eventually," Gallard voiced out.

"Right. I can do the surgery here, in this son of a _warg_'s hole amid this bloody storm without any proper utensils saved for my dagger and sword. I can cut him open like I cut a cake and pluck out the spleen as easy as I pluck a pear from a tree. But then I might hack off some arteries by mistake and he will bleed to death here on my lap and what am I going to tell my family then? '_Oops, I flunk my anatomy exam?_' "

"Ah…" Gallard looked chagrined. "Well. I…uh…guess not."

Someone chuckled then. "Gee, Kel. I didn't know you were so scared to cut me up."

"I'm not scared. I'm _terrified_!" Keldarion snapped. Realizing who had just spoken, he jerked his gaze back down. "Legolas! You're awake."

"Yes, unfortunately." Legolas grimaced as he shifted around, trying to get a better lying position. "What happened? And what the heck is that howling sound?"

"It's the sandstorm."

"Sandstorm? Oh, so _that's_ what this _ringwraith_'s guise is for." Legolas grinned, pointing at the 'tent' above their heads. "But where are we? How did we get here?"

"Can't you remember riding through the storm?" asked Keldarion. "We are now sitting in a ditch, gob smack in the middle of nowhere."

"You stupid elf. I told you it's a _trench_, not a ditch. There's a difference!" Gallard argued, "Geographically, a ditch is for channeling water. But in middle of a desert where the water is so scarce, it is called a…"

"Oh, will you stop?" Laughing, Keldarion gave the _draq_ a shove. "Why so obsess with this geography thing?"

Gallard scowled. "I'm not obsessed. I just want to get the facts straight."

"Fine. It's a _trench_," Legolas said, quite amused. "But why aren't we taking shelter inside the wagon? A lot more comfortable that way, I would say."

"Lord, you are hopeless." The _draq_ sighed. "Yes, let's take shelter in the wagon. Only I don't think the wagon is where we left it. The fierce wind has probably blown it away!"

Despite his paleness, Legolas blushed. "All right. That was a stupid suggestion."

Smiling, Gallard reached down and patted his friend's shoulder. "No, not stupid. You're just slow, that's all."

"Ah. That makes me feel a lot better already."

The four companions stared wordlessly at each other and burst into laughter, finding humor in their alarming situation. The storm was still raging above them, the trench was slowly filled with sand, but for that brief sweet moment there was nothing else but their strong camaraderie.

"This is one heck of an adventure," Legolas said, still chuckling. "I swear this is the last time I…awww!"

"What? What's wrong, Legolas?" Startled, Keldarion quickly bent over his brother when the younger elf clenched his tummy with a cry.

"Laughing…bad idea…" Gritting his teeth, Legolas kneaded his belly. "I would appreciate…that hot stone…right about now."

"The storm has to pass before I can make a fire and heat the rock," Keldarion said regretfully, rummaging through his bag. He took some dried leaves out of a packet and placed them against Legolas' lips. "Here. Chew on this. It will dull the pain."

Legolas made a face. "It tastes horrible."

"So is your cooking but I didn't die eating them," Keldarion retorted. "Now chew."

Legolas chew, glaring at his brother all the while.

Having nothing better to do but wait patiently for the storm to die down, the four companions sat pressing against each other and did exactly that.

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Almost an hour later, the storm finally passed. The sun was back in the sky. It was quiet and peaceful, no more howling wind.

They swiped the blankets off their heads. And stared. The ditch—oops, the _trench_—didn't look actually the same. Filled with sand, it was no longer as deep as before. The three horses were still tied to the same rock, thankfully, but they were now buried to their knees.

The four companions were buried almost to their necks.

Keldarion stared wryly at Gallard. "_Geographically_, another hour of that storm will turn this trench into our _grave_."

"Oh, stuff it, elf!" Gallard shot back. "At least we all survived."

Laughing, Keldarion slapped the _draq_'s back. "Thanks to your quick thinking, we did."

"Did the Harodem army suvive the storm, do you think?" Eldarion wondered.

"I'm sure they didn't. They had no _draq_ to lead their way," Gallard boasted, much to the two elves' disgust. They snorted noisily in disagreement.

"_What_?" Gallard looked perplexed. "I was just stating the fact!"

Assured that the horses were all right—restless, but completely unscatched—the company grabbed the reins and helped the beasts out of the sand, scrambling out of their hiding place. They made camp, building up a tent and a fire not far from the trench, before Keldarion tended to his brother's injuries.

"Aren't you going to remove my spleen now?" Legolas jested after Keldarion finished aplying the hot stone treatment to his belly.

In reply, Keldarion took out his dagger and flashed it in his brother's gaze threateningly.

"No! _Don't_! I was just joking!" Legolas yelped, putting up his hands.

Keldarion smiled, his eyes glinted with mirth as he slipped back the dagger into his boot. "So was I."

Legolas swore in response. His elder brother just laughed and went away to help Gallard feed the horses.

When the sun came down, the companions were ready to move on. From atop his mare, Keldarion glanced at the others. Next to him, Legolas sat slumped on his stallion, having adamantly told them that he was now fit to ride even though they didn't fully believe him. Gallard and Eldarion waited impatiently on the other horse, ever eager to get moving.

"All right, my fellow friends." Keldarion nodded. "Let's head for Gondor."

And they set off, back towards home and family.

**TBC…**

**This story is winding down! Only two more chapters left! Hang on everybody!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Here's the new chapter everyone! And I'm in a very happy jubilant mood! My boyfriend and I have reconciled! I'm falling in love all over again!**

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It was a beautiful morning in Minas Tirith as Gondor's ruling king strode towards the royal nursery. From the silly noises that were coming from the room, accompanied by the sound of children's delightful laughter, he deduced that a play was busily in session. That brought a genuine smile to his lips, a first in many weeks since his son ran away from home.

Trying not to think much of Eldarion, which would only add more to his already mounting worry, Aragorn pushed open the door and stepped inside. He froze in his tracks and gaped, astonished by what he saw.

Discarding all customs and protocols, Lord Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen was carelessly sprawled on the floor, making funny faces at his two grandsons.

"_Gibbee, gibbee, yabba, yabba_," the elven king growled, nipping playfully at the little boys' tummy. The toddlers giggled and shrieked, their chubby faces pinked with uncontained joy.

"Say 'grandfather'," Thranduil urged, keeping them trapped within his arms. "Say it and I'll let you both go."

"_Grampa_! _Grampa_!" the two elflings cried. They clapped their hands when they received their grandfather's approval, "Well done! Smart little warriors, aren't you?"

Kissing the top of his grandsons' heads, Thranduil sat upright and gathered them together on his lap. Without looking, he ordered, "Shut your mouth before you catch flies, Aragorn. Haven't you seen an elf played with their young ones before?"

Chuckling, a bit embarrassed for being caught staring, Aragorn walked over to sit near Thranduil. He chucked both elflings under the chin before replying, "Oh, I have. Many times. But to see _you_ at it is as rare as seeing an orc smile, my lord."

Thranduil scowled at the man. "I'm not _that_ bad."

"Please, I mean no offense," Aragorn assured, patting the elf's shoulder. He reached over and collected one of the small twins into his embrace. Linden, the dark-haired toddler, went willingly into his arms.

"In fact, I admire you for it, my lord," the man continued, letting Linden played with the silver buttons on his tunic. "You are the sternest and most formidable elven king ever known. Yet, deep inside, you are as tender and loving as anybody else. Truly, you have hidden your heart well."

It was Thranduil's turn to be embarrassed.

"These are my grandsons. Of course, I dote on them, like any normal grandfather would," he protested, looking quite uncomfortable by the praise.

"What about your own sons? You dote on them too?" Aragorn inquired with a grin. He already expected what the answer would be.

"Those two irresponsible bratlings? _Dote_ on them?" Thranduil snorted, his scowl grew fiercer. "Bash their heads together, I will! How dare they scare me like this. It has been weeks since they dumped their wives on me, without even bothering to send us any news of their progress and whereabouts. What a bad influence to these innocent children. I swear, Aragorn, when my sons get home, I'll flay the hides off them!"

"Don't be too hard on Legolas and Keldarion, my lord. They are helping me look for my missing son." Aragorn glanced at the opened window when a strong breeze blew in, sending the curtains dancing in the air. He stared at the sunny blue sky, his mind far away. "I wish they found Darion already."

Thranduil was thoughtful for a moment before he quietly responded, "If I knew my sons well, they would not give up until they find what they are looking for. They are relentless, my two boys. They _will_ bring home Eldarion."

Shrugging, the elven king added, "I just hope they hurry up, though. Waiting is _not_ my favorite pastime!"

Laughing, Aragorn agreed. He looked down at Legolas' dark-haired son sitting in his lap. "What about you, Linden? You miss your _Dada_ too?"

"_Dada_! _Dada_!" Linden shouted, searching around for his adoring father. At once, Hadrian—his golden-haired twin—also began to fret. The two elflings joined forces then, yelling for their father at the top of their lungs.

"Great lord. I forgot how powerful their lungs are," said Aragorn with a grimace. Knowing how strongly attached the twins were to their father, he regretted mentioning the word '_Dada_' to their hearing. He hoped Legolas' wife would come running at their cries and calm them down, though that would be highly unlikely. The last time he saw her, Narasene was several floors down in the ladies parlor with Arwen and the rest of the women, embroidering.

"Ai! Stop, child! You are tearing at my scalp!" Aragorn yelped when Linden's mood grew nastier. He gently pried the small fingers off his hair, looking at Thranduil for assistance.

But the elven king had his attention focused elsewhere. He was gazing without seeing at the opened window, at the curtains dancing in the breeze. Without a word, he abruptly stood and rushed towards the balcony.

"Lord Thranduil?"

Puzzled, Aragorn also rose and went to stand next to the elf. The wind was a bit stronger out there on the balcony, caressing through his hair and plastering his clothes to his body. It took him several moments to notice that Hadrian and Linden had ceased their fretting, and were snuggling meekly in their respective embrace. Maybe the young ones were enjoying the morning breeze too, like their grandfather.

"You hear that?" Thranduil suddenly asked, his voice hushed.

"Hear what, my lord?"

"The wind speaks, Aragorn. They are telling us something."

Aragorn apologetically shook his head. "I can hear the wind, but I'm afraid I'm no scholar to their language."

"_Dada, Dada_," Hadrian and Linden babbled excitedly to one another.

"Our sons, Aragorn." Smiling, Thranduil turned. His cobalt-blue eyes were sparkling. "Our sons are coming home."

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After three days of riding, Keldarion and his company had finally put the desert behind them, encountering no more sandstorm or any other mishaps. They crossed the bridge over the River Poros and made a brief stop at the black market to replenish their supplies before continuing on for River Anduin. The companions—the elves in particular—were vastly happy to see trees and river once again.

"That's the one and only desert for me. Good riddance!" Legolas gushed after they stopped to make camp for the night. He leaned against the nearest tree to give it a kiss and a hug. "Oh, I miss you so much!"

His chuckling companions came over and, together, they embraced the tree.

"I've been waiting to do that ever since we escaped the desert," Keldrion said when they broke away.

"Our recent adventure must have addled our brains. Normally, I'd rather kiss and hug my wife!" With a laugh, Gallard dropped onto his sleeping pallet, making himself comfortable. Placing his hands behind his head, he stared at the star-filled sky and began to sing joyously,

"_Here's the story of four travelers,_

_Searching far for freedom._

_One is kidnapped and kept as a slave,_

_And left abandon in sheer boredom."_

"_Here's the story of three travelers,_

_Making way through the desert._

_One is struck by an arrow to his heart,_

_And left abandon for the buzzards."_

"_Here's the story of two travelers,_

_Trying to cross the river._

_One is beaten until he burst his spleen,_

_And left abandon to shiver._"

"Will you shut up?" Legolas scowled at the _draq_. "That's a horrible song!"

Gallard just laughed. "At least my voice is pleasant to hear."

"Pleasant?" Keldarion snorted. "You sound like a frog."

The _draq_ frowned when his three companions laughed at him. His frown turned into a glare when Keldarion started to sing, using the prior song's melody,

"_Here's the story of one traveler,_

_Flying home to his tower in the sea._

_He is impaled by a sword through his wing,_

_And left abandon to scream like a banshee!"_

"Absolutely _not_!" Gallard protested. "No one can harm my wing!"

That caused the others to laugh all the harder.

"Who says the song is about you?" Legolas asked, chortling with mirth.

"Indeed, _draq_. Why so mad?" Grinning, Keldarion picked up the water skin to take a drink. "I didn't mention your name, did I? So why…?"

Keldarion came into a stand still, the water skin held aloft. He quietly put it down, his thirst forgotten. Exchanging knowing glances with his brother, he calmly unsheathed his sword and took a defense stance.

Equally silent, Legolas picked up his bow and arrows and took position next to his brother. He was still too sore from his injuries, but he could still fight if he had to.

"Hey, what's going on?" Eldarion was bewildered by this sudden change.

"What is it, elves? You two heard something?" Gallard leaped to his feet. He had heard nothing suspicious, but the Mirkwood brothers obviously had. And he trusted their sharp senses more than anything else.

Keldarion nodded. "We have company. Many of them, about ten to twelve."

"But who are they? And what must we do?" Jumpy and nervous, Eldarion grabbed a dagger and went to stand between the two elves.

"Stay back, Darion. Let us handle this," Legolas said, stepping in front of the boy. He nocked and arrow, pulled the string taut and took aim.

"Wait! Don't shoot!" Gallard suddenly cried out, waving his arms about. "I mean it, don't shoot!"

Puzzled by _draq_'s behavior, the others turned to stare at him.

"Why not, may I ask?" Legolas lowered his bow.

"Because you are aiming at my wife, you bloody idiot!"

Their eyes bulged with shock. "Your _wife_!"

"But how can you tell? It's so dark." Eldarion was clearly impressed.

"Hey, I'm her husband," Gallard replied, looking up at the sky. "I would know her scent anywhere."

True enough. Kylea and her entourage came into view shortly after. She was a _shraq_, a shape-shifting raven, so she appeared in her winged form. She landed gracefully on the ground, whereas the eagles—the Tasqamaran royal guards—lingered in the air above them.

As always, it was a spectacular sight when Kylea transformed herself. From a black raven, she steadily changed into a lovely, sensual woman.

All the males had their mouth gaping open—human and elves included.

"Hello, husband," greeted Kylea as she casually walked forward.

"Er…hello, wife," Gallard anxiously responded. He searched her face for any trace of displeasure, but found none.

Standing toe to toe with her husband, Kylea cupped a palm against his cheek. "You are well?"

"Um…yes. I am well and sound."

"Enough sulking?"

Gallard scowled. "I was not sulking!"

"Fine. You were not sulking. Are you ready to come home now?"

"Aren't you mad at me?"

"Kiss me and let's find out."

With a low growl, Gallard swooped his head down to claim his wife's lips. The couple kissed like they have not kissed for weeks—which was exactly the case, by the way.

Making a face at the scene, Legolas reached over to cover Eldarion's widened eyes. Beside them, Keldarion turned his gaze away, grinning and blushing uncontrollably.

"Oh, yes. I'm mad. I'm mad with wanting you." Kylea gasped for air when they broke the kiss. "Come home with me now, husband dear. I have plans for you."

"You and your plans," Gallard sighed ruefully. When he caught the pointed look she was giving him, he quickly amended, "Yes, ma'am. Anything you say."

Kylea patiently waited as her husband went to hug Eldarion. "Do not forget what I told you, boy."

"I won't. I truly appreciate your advice," the young prince replied. "And I thank you for rescuing me, Gallard. I hope I can repay it someday."

"You don't have to. Be a good son to your family, Darion. That is enough payment for me."

The _draq_ said goodbye to the brothers next, amid crushing embrace and lots of backslappings.

"Keep your eye on your baby brother," he told Keldarion. "I won't be around to pluck him out of silly scrapes."

Legolas grinned when he heard that. "And you must remember that thing I've suggested, about having the heart-to-heart talk with you wife."

Gallard frowned back. "I will remember. I just don't know if that will work!"

As the couple prepared to take off, Kylea turned back around and said, "Oh, I nearly forgot, your highnesses. Your wives are currently lodging in Minas Tirith, waiting for the both of you to return."

At this, the brothers froze.

"They _are_?" Legolas was in disbelief. He was slowly turning very white.

"But how? They are supposed to be in Eryn Lasgalen," Keldarion wondered out loud.

"How, indeed?" Kylea smiled. "Lord Thranduil himself escorted them there a couple of weeks ago."

"He is in Minas Tirith too?" the brothers exclaimed. "Our very own _father_?"

"Looks like you are in for another 'adventure'." Gallard was laughing now. "Err…good luck, my friends!"

The king and queen of Tasqamaran took off at a run, hand in hand, and leaped into the air in different forms. They circled the area several times before flying straight towards the sea where their kingdom was, followed closely by their royal guards.

"Wow." Eldarion was still staring at the sky even though he couldn't see the birds anymore. "I wished I could fly like them."

"And I wished I could make myself invisible," Legolas muttered, sitting down hard on the ground. He rubbed his belly, which was beginning to ache all over again.

Wearing identical glum expression, Keldarion slumped down next to his brother. "Ai! Father is going to kill us both!"

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The next day before dusk, they reached the small dock on the bank of Anduin. They needed to board the ferrying raft to cross the river. Signaling the boat master to come over, Keldarion banged repeatedly on the brass bell hanging from a nearby pole.

Not long after, the boat master turned up with his raft. He rowed to port and jubilantly greeted the travelers, "Hello, there! Wanna get to the other side? Then hop on board, gentlemen. That would be a shilling per person and two for each mount."

The man squinted when he finally got the first good look on his customers. His eyes widened when he realized who they were. "Bloody wargs! It's _you_!"

They couldn't help but grinned in amusement.

"Yes, it's us," Keldarion said, already leading his mount aboard the raft. "Take us across, old man. And we will double the fare."

"You…you found the boy." The man pointed at Eldarion.

"Yes, we did."

Uneasily, the boat master glanced at Legolas. "You won't shoot me with your bloody arrow, would you?"

Scowling, Legolas guided his stallion to stand next to Keldarion's mare. "I will if you won't cease asking questions."

The threat caused the man to hastily scramble away, placing himself back in position to steer the raft.

Keldarion shook his head at his brother. "You are scaring him."

"Who cares? I'll triple his fare." Legolas just shrugged in response, rubbing his belly with a grimace.

Keldarion noticed this. "Are you hurting again?"

"I'll survive." Still wincing, Legolas turned to stare at the water. He switched to Quenya when he spoke next, "How do you think father would react when he sees us?"

With a sigh, Keldarion ran a hand through his unruly hair. "He won't be pleased, that's for sure."

"And the wives?"

"They will ban us from their beds for weeks!"

The boat master beckoned Eldarion over. "What are they saying? I can't bloody understand them."

Eldarion frowned at the man for being such a busy-body. Having born half an elf, the boy could speak the elven tongue fluently, but Quenya was a very old noble language that he was yet to master. Even though some words sounded familiar, he couldn't fully understand what the two brothers were discussing.

Trying not to appear at the disadvantage though, Eldarion faked a solemn expression as he explained, "They are deciding whether you are trustworthy or not."

"Me? Trustworthy?" The man was shocked as he whispered back. "Why? What the bloody for?"

Eldarion made it look as if he was listening hard to the elves. "They don't want you to tell anyone else that you've seen us. So before you do, they might have to do something to keep you silent."

"What are they going to do to me?"

"They will cut out your tongue."

The blood drained off the man's face. He rowed harder for shore, as if he couldn't wait long enough to unload his passengers. He wished he could dump them all into the river right then, but he feared the golden-haired warrior might swing up his bow and shoot him in the head.

Eldarion bit back on a smile. He knew it was nasty of him to scare the man so, but at least it shut him up for good.

"Why don't we just leave Darion at the gate and then ride hard for Ithilien? That way, we won't have to face father," Legolas was suggesting to his brother.

Keldarion shook his head. "We can't do that, you idiot! You still need to have that damaged spleen removed, and I only trust Aragorn's skill for that."

"Oh, right. My spleen." Legolas' face fell.

"Hey, we survived the desert, a sandstorm and a crazy tyrant. We shall survive father's wrath, don't worry."

"In other words, we are dead meat."

"Yep. Bleeding dead meat." Keldarion nodded. Then he looked around, confused. "Is it my imagination, or is this raft really speeding up?"

The moment they were ashore, the boat master promptly jumped ship. He took off at a run without even bothering to secure his raft.

The elves stared in bewilderment. "What the blazes has gotten into him?"

As one, they turned to Eldarion. The boy was making choking sounds, his face red.

"What's the matter with you?" Keldarion asked.

"Nothing," Eldarion quickly answered, his face all innocence.

Legolas frowned. "Do you have anything to do with this?"

"What do you mean?"

"What did you say to that man?"

"Well, I…" Eldarion bit his lips, and then he told them. When he finished explaining, Keldarion reached up and smacked the back of the boy's head.

"Aww!" Sending the elf a heated glare, Eldarion rubbed his smarting head.

"That was mean, Darion," Legolas scolded, but even he couldn't stop himself from grinning.

"I know, but…Hey. Serves him right. He let those kidnappers took me away, didn't he?"

"All right. Fair enough," Keldarion responded. He rolled his eyes heavenward, muttering to himself, "_Another_ smarty pant brat. Ai Elbereth. Why me?"

After they helped secure the raft to its mooring, the companions were ready to continue their journey.

"Oh, wait." Rummaging through his pack, Keldarion then took out a purse. He grabbed a fistful of shillings and placed them on the floorboard of the dock.

"Here's the fare!" he called out, knowing that the boat master was hiding somewhere in the woods behind them. "And good day."

After the three travelers had ridden away, the man crawled out from under a clump of bushes.

"Bloody elves!" he spat disdainfully. He went to collect the shillings and found that they were actually gold coins. He whooped with joy.

"Bless you, master elves! Bless you!"

**TBC…**

**Next week, the Grand Finale.**


	29. Chapter 29

**All right, everybody. Here's the chapter you all have been waiting for. I know I was supposed to post it last week, but I was working outstation. Hence, the delay.**

**Okay. Here we go.**

**(Drum rolls)**

"**Adromir proudly presents – the Grand Finale!"**

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Several days later, they were home.

Sort of.

"So, this is it." Legolas released a pent-up breath before turning to his fellow companions. "Shall we go in, or are we going to just sit out here gaping at the gate?"

Keldarion threw him a dirty look. "Right. Why don't _you_ go first? We'll be right behind you."

"_I_ go first? Huh. Get real."

"What's the problem? Lose your nerves somewhere?" Keldarion taunted with a grin.

"If I had lost my nerves, I wouldn't even _be_ here," Legolas shot back. He then added under his breath, "I might be hiding in a box where father can never find me."

Keldarion obviously heard this because he laughed out loud. "Oh, he will find you, all right. Even if you _were _the box!"

Sending his brother a murderous glare, Legolas retorted, "This is getting ridiculous. Darion, you go first!"

Startled, Eldarion literally jumped in his saddle. "M…_me_?"

"Yes, you. Minas Tirith is your home, is it not?"

"Of course, b…but…I…I…" the boy stammered, not relishing the idea of being the first to endure their fathers' wrath.

"Oh, go on, Darion. Let's not keep the family waiting. Don't worry, your father will not kill you," Keldarion assured him.

"That's because our father will kill us first!" Legolas said. He rubbed his belly with a grimace. "Ai. I just hope I won't faint dead away and humiliate myself when he does so."

Keldarion frowned at his brother' drawn and clammy face. "You look terrible. Will you be all right? Can you hang on?"

"Sure I can!" Legolas snapped, insulted. "Now let's get moving before I throw up all the day's meal!"

Biting down his lower lip to hide his grin, Eldarion kicked his mount and led the way to the city's great gate. The guards had already recognized the companions from afar. Not only were they glad to see their missing crown prince, those men of Gondor were also incredibly relieved, and it showed on their beaming faces as they surrounded the three riders. One of them even looked as if he was about to kiss Eldarion's booted feet.

"Bless you, your highness! Bless you!" one guard cried out, tears glistening in his eyes. The rest of the guards were clapping and cheering joyfully, pleased by their prince's return.

Deeply touched and humbled to the bone, Eldarion smiled back at them, appreciating their adoration for him. He had behaved so outrageously when he slipped under their watch that day, but still they loved him the same. He knew he owed these loyal guards not a small amount of apology.

"Your highness! I'm so glad you're back, hale and unharmed!" This came from one of the gate officers. "Ai, you have given us quite a scare, my prince."

"Forgive me, captain, for all the problems I've caused you by my impulsiveness," Eldarion respectfully apologized. "It won't happen again."

"Never you mind, your highness. I myself have learned a good lesson. Knowing what you are able to do, I will always be kept on my toes from now on," the captain replied, grinning. "But the next time you decide to run away, I pray you take me with you. I swear, your father nearly executed me when he found out how you've managed to pass through the gate!"

Eldarion laughed at this but, inside, his heart shriveled with dread. _Ai._ _I'm as good as dead!_

As if he could hear what the boy was thinking, Keldarion suddenly said, "Relax, Darion. Your mother won't let your father harm you."

"Lucky for you." Legolas indelicately snorted. "_Our_ wives would cheerfully let our father harm _us_!"

And so, they continued to ride on, straight for the citadel. The news must have traveled fast ahead because many people streamed into the streets to catch the sight of their beloved prince, cheering him on the entire way.

Eldarion breathed easier. His father might have one heck of a temper, but even he knew it was not smart to harm his own son who was also the people's favorite. Why, they might call for a revolution if _that_ happened!

At the citadel's terrace, the three princes of two different realms expertly reined in their mounts. Eldarion's family was already waiting. His mother, his father, his sisters—they all stood on the steps, expectantly watching him as he dismounted.

With a soft cry, Queen Arwen flew down the steps towards her son, her cheeks wet with happy tears.

"Mother!" Eldarion flung himself into his mother's arms, his eyes also damp. "Forgive me, mother. Forgive me for causing you hurt and grief. I'm so sorry…"

"Shhh. It's all right, my dear. Everything's all right now." Arwen tenderly stroked her son's face, smiling through her tears at him. "You have returned to us. That's all that matters."

"But I was so stupid! I shouldn't have…"

"No, no, Darion. None of that now," she cut his words and kissed his temple. "We will talk, as long as you want to, but later. Right now, let us welcome you home, for we have sorely missed you."

They embraced again, causing Eldarion's three sisters to loudly protest, "What about us? We want to hug him too!"

Chuckling, Arwen stepped away and let her daughters swarm their brother. Nessa and Elanor laughingly planted wet kisses on Eldarion's cheeks, but little Enelya stood back and just stared at him with her big, round eyes.

"Hello, little flower. Any hugs for me?" Eldarion smiled coaxingly at his youngest sister. He then frowned when he noticed Enelya's interesting footwear. The shoes were a lot bigger than her feet because, well, they were not hers to begin with. "Err…why are you wearing my boots?"

That was exactly what the young princess had been waiting for.

"So that I can do this!" she cried out and kicked with all her might, hitting Eldarion square on his left shin.

"_Awww_!" The prince screamed, hopping on one foot as he favored the other leg. "What did you do that for!"

"That's for leaving us so unhappy, you…you bird-brain!" Enelya shouted back. "Don't you know how much I cried when you left? Don't you know that you've made mommy cry? And then made _father_ cry?"

Eldarion's eyes went up and met his father's, dead on. For many seconds, their gazes held.

Even when his family was celebrating below him, Aragorn had not moved from his spot. His face composed, the king of Gondor stood tall and proud as he watched everything. Only the odd brightness in his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

Suddenly tongue-tied, Eldarion went slowly up the steps to stand directly in front of his father. "M…my liege, I…"

"Are you well?" Aragorn interrupted, his face still unchanged.

"Yes, sire." The son nodded. He lowered his head, fully expecting to hear the form of punishments that he deserved.

"I'm glad then," the father responded, his voice gentle. "You must be tired. Let your mother take you inside. I believe she has ordered a bath and some refreshments for you."

"But, father," Eldarion quickly looked up, "I have done great wrong to you."

"As have I, likewise." The façade on Aragorn's face nearly cracked then, but he held on. Giving his son's shoulder a brief squeeze, he whispered, "We will talk, my son, you and I. Now go with your mother."

Eldarion looked down when his youngest sister suddenly gave his hand a tug. "Yes, Enelya?"

"I think you should do what father told you," the little girl solemnly said.

Even Aragorn had to smile when he heard that.

Grinning, Eldarion bent over until he was nose to nose with his sister. "All right, I will. But are you going to kick me again?"

"Are you going to leave us again?"

"You know I won't." He promptly kissed her nose. "I've missed you terribly, little sister, and I'm not going to go through that agony any more."

Enelya blushed, looking very pleased. "Then you can have your boots back. They are killing my feet!"

Laughing, Eldarion swept his giggling sister into his arms and went inside, Nessa and Elanor right on their heels.

Before turning to follow her children, Arwen silently approached the two Mirkwood brothers. He kissed them both tenderly on their lips.

"Thank you," she said, her voice only a soft whisper, her eyes watering. "Thank you for returning my baby to me."

The queen gave them another trembling smile and took herself back into the citadel.

"So," Aragorn spoke, walking down the steps towards her oldest friends, "You keep your promise. You found my son."

Still standing between their mounts, Legolas and Keldarion glanced at each other and broadly grinned. "Yep. That we did."

Aragorn also grinned, his head shaking. "Your father was right. You two _are_ relentless!"

There was a catch in the man's voice when he said next, "I'm truly indebted to you, my friends. Valar only knows how I can repay you after what you have done for me, for my family."

"Estel, there is nothing to pay for," Legolas protested. "We love Eldarion too."

"That boy can drive us insane with his stubbornness—he got that from you, by the way—but we truly care for him. In fact, he is like a younger brother to me," Keldarion declared. He made a face when he realized what he had just said. "I can't believe I said that. Legolas is already a constant pain in my ass. Why do I need another one?"

Legolas glared. "Ha. Ha. Very funny."

"Thank you. I'm glad you agree." Keldarion deadpanned.

His chest rumbling with laughter, Aragorn stood watching as the two brothers' bickered. Some things would never change. But then he noticed that Legolas was a lot paler than usual, and Keldarion was slightly favoring his left chest.

"Are you two hurt?" the man asked.

"No!" Legolas answered, the same moment that Keldarion said, "Yes."

Aragorn raised one eyebrow. "Right. Which one is it?"

"It's not important." Legolas brushed the question away impatiently. "But tell me, where's our family? I thought they are all here."

"Well, yes, they are." Aragorn nodded.

"Why didn't they come out? Didn't they know of our arrival?"

Aragorn had a strange smile on his face by then. "Oh, they do. They do."

"Then, where are they?" Legolas asked, sounding mighty desperate now. "I want to see my wife and the twins."

"And I can't wait to see Aislinn," added Keldarion, already heading for the steps. "I have lots of things to tell her."

"Where is our father, by the way?" Legolas wondered in puzzlement.

"_About time you ask_!" A voice suddenly boomed behind them, causing the brothers to whirl around in unison. They gaped at their father, their faces drained of all color.

_Where in Arda did he come from?_

"Oh…uh…Hello, father," Keldarion managed to say, having a hard time to believe that the elven king managed to sneak upon them.

"What? Is that all you can say? _Hello_? " Thranduil was frowning with disapproval.

Legolas tried to come out with a smart reply, but he must have pulled something in his belly from his abrupt movement just now. He was horrified to know that he was about to get sick.

Very, very sick.

No one was more surprised than Thranduil when, without warning, his youngest son bent over at the waist and threw up his stomach content.

"Aiiieee!" The other three instantly leaped out of harm's way.

"Sorry," Legolas mumbled sheepishly when he finished. "Feel a lot better now."

"Are you sure?" Keldarion was skeptical. "You look very green to me."

"What's wrong with you?" Thranduil was frantic as he asked Legolas. "You are hurt, aren't you? What happened? What have you gotten yourself into?"

"May I answer that later? I think I'm…going to…to…"

Legolas' eyes rolled upward, a split second before he slumped. Thankfully, Thranduil was able to catch him before he could hit the ground.

"Legolas! What the…!" Thranduil sputtered, perplexed. He looked up to his other son. "Blast it, Kel! WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED!"

Keldarion sighed. Legolas was out, so it left only him to face their father's famous tirade. "Well, father, it's a long story."

"Whatever it is, it can wait." Aragorn decided that he must interfere. "Let's take Legolas where he can lie down first."

Without further arguments, the three rushed up the steps and went straight into the citadel, carrying the limp Legolas between them.

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"Valar, I feel like killing myself!" Those were Legolas' first words when he finally came around not long after.

"That's funny, because I feel like killing _you_ too!"

Legolas was so startled he nearly bolted out of the bed. He glanced to the right and cringed. His father was giving him the famous 'Thranduil's glare' treatment.

"Your brother has told me everything and I'm not very happy with you right now," Thranduil said, clearly upset. "That was incredibly stupid of you, going into the enemy's lair all by yourself. What the blazes were you thinking?"

"Please father. Not _now_!" Groaning, Legolas looked around and found his brother sitting in a big chair a few yards away. "Kel, help me here."

"Sorry." Keldarion just shrugged. "It's now your turn. I've had mine a short while ago. And let me tell you, it was no fun while you were out because I couldn't share the joy in hearing father rant and yell and nag and… "

Keldarion slammed his mouth shut when Thranduil sent him a fierce look that could render a normal man to tears.

"Father, it's no big deal. The most important thing is that we are home, bodily intact," Legolas said, shifting about in the bed to find more comfortable position—which was extremely hard if you had your irate father looking ready to chew you alive!

"Bodily intact, my butt!" Thranduil growled. "You have a ruptured spleen, for crying out loud!"

"But that can be repaired," Legolas replied, trying to act nonchalant. "In fact, I can lead a normal life without a spleen. They only need to cut me open and remove it before…"

He came to a halt, and went terribly white in the face. "Oh, lord. They are going to cut me open. They will take apart my anatomy, I will bleed to death and…and…"

"Hey, hey. It's all right, son. Everything is going to be fine," Thranduil soothingly said, all trace of displeasure vanished from his face. He patted his son's arm. "Even as we speak, Aragorn is already busy putting together a team of well-trained healers for your coming surgery…"

"_Surgery_? No…!" Legolas wailed. He protectively hugged his tummy. "Look, I change my mind. Tell Estel not to go to all that trouble, will you? I think I'll keep my spleen, thank you very much."

Thranduil looked at Keldarion and rolled his eyes. "I think he needs a distraction."

Grinning, Keldarion stood and walked over to the bed. "There is no better distraction than his wife and children. I think you should let them go, father."

"Let them go?" Legolas was clearly puzzled. "What's that mean? Where are Nara and the twins?"

"Father locked them inside the nursery when he heard us coming." Now it was Keldarion's turn to glare at Thranduil. "Aislinn is locked inside with them too."

"You did _what_!" Shocked, Legolas stared opened mouth at his father.

Thranduil had the grace to look sheepish. "I…uhh…have to keep them out of my way for a bit."

"WHAT THE BLOODY FOR!"

"So that they won't interfere when I do _this_!" Thranduil grabbed his sons' ears and gave them a vicious twist. Shrieking, Legolas and Keldarion squirmed for release but their father held on fast.

"That's for driving me crazy with worry!" The elven king gave their ears another twist. "And that's for dumping your lady wives on me without even a by-your-leave! I adore both my daughters but female problems are _definitely_ not my fort, do you hear me?"

As if on cue, the door to the room burst open and the said ladies rushed in. Their mouths dropped open when they saw what Thranduil was doing to his sons.

"My lord! What are you doing? No, stop! Get away from them!"

Narasene and Aislinn quickly ran over. They grabbed Thranduil by his sleeves and unceremoniously shoved him away, mere seconds before they threw themselves into their husbands' opened arms.

"How did you two escape? I keep the only key to the nursery with me." Thranduil frowned as the two couples started kissing.

"We broke the door down with a chair," Narasene replied without looking up, and continued running her lips all over Legolas' face. "Oh, honey bun, you are hurt? My poor darling."

Aislinn wrapped herself around Keldarion's tall frame. "I missed you like crazy, husband. I'm sorry for everything. Please don't leave me again. I love you so much."

Legolas and Keldarion wore identical stupid grin on their faces. They were so delighted by their spouses' attention they completely forgot their father's presence.

Even as Thranduil watched, his sons went on smooching with their lovely wives. He was startled when two little creatures suddenly brushed past him and leaped onto the bed.

Hadrian and Linden. Who else?

"Dada! Dada!" the twins cried, hugging and kissing their father.

"Oh, my little warriors!" Legolas laughed. "Come here and let me see how tall you have grown!"

Thranduil threw up his arms and turned away, muttering under his breath, "Fine. You can have them now."

Giggling and whispering, Keldarion and Aislinn headed for the door, arms curled around each other's waist. Shortly after, they locked themselves inside her chamber and didn't come out for hours.

Hadrian and Linden crawled off their father's bed and went to their grandfather, declaring in unison, "Dada and Mama kiss."

Chuckling, Thranduil picked them up. "Yes, I can see that. Or, should I say, I can _hear _them."

The two boys tittered uncontrollably, causing their grandfather's smile to grow even wider. "Let's leave them to it, shall we?"

Turning to Legolas the elven king said, "I'll tell Aragorn to postpone the surgery."

Legolas or Narasene didn't seem to hear.

Deeply amused, Thranduil carried his grandsons out of the room and gently closed the door. Now was his last chance to have the little tykes all for himself, before their lovesick parents gathered their senses and came to claim them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Aragorn was ensconced in his study late that night, poring over his daily journal, when someone timidly knocked at the door.

"Enter."

The door opened with a slight squeak, and the crown prince of Gondor cautiously poked in his head. "You asked to see me, father?"

"Ah, Darion. Yes, come in." Aragorn smiled. "And please close the door."

Eldarion obeyed. He slowly approached his father's table and stood there, waiting with growing suspense.

Still smiling, Aragorn put away his journal and fully faced his son. "Do have a seat."

The boy sat, looking anywhere but at the king. He couldn't guess what he was in for, but he believed it would not be pleasant.

"You look well rested," Aragorn remarked. "Had a nice nap?"

"Yes, father." Eldarion nodded. "Never felt better in weeks."

Aragorn was silent for several moments as he scanned his son's features. The boy still looked a bit pale, with fading cuts and bruises clearly visible all over his face. Rising to his feet, he walked around the table and stopped by Eldarion's chair.

"Stand up and turn around."

Baffled, Eldarion was slow to rise. When he had his back turned, his father gently lifted the tail end of his shirt.

Overwhelmed by sudden rage and despair, Aragorn could hardly stifle a painful choke when he saw the crisscrossing scars all over Eldarion's otherwise flawless skin. Someone had badly hurt his child, and he was not there to stop it.

At that moment, Aragorn felt terribly ashamed for being so powerless.

"I…" He had to swallow repeatedly before he could speak. "I'm sorry I failed to protect you, Darion. I'm sorry you have to go through all that horror. I'm sorry I was not…"

"No!" Eldarion spun to hug his father. "I'm the one who should apologize. I'm the one who created all these problems. I'm the one who has been hurting everyone that I love. Forgive me, father. I know I've disappointed you greatly, but I promise I'll make up for my past mistakes. I swear I'll make you proud. I swear it, father…I swear it…"

The boy wept in earnest, shaking uncontrollably in his father's arms. In tears himself, Aragorn tightened his embrace, willing his every strength to pour from his entire being into his son.

"I'm always proud of you, Darion. _Always_." Aragorn pulled away when Eldarion's sobs finally died down. "It was my big mistake that I never let you know."

"Truly? You are proud of me?" The boy was surprised to know.

"Of course."

"Even after the big mess I've made of everything? Even after I've told you that I…that I hate you?"

"Do you really hate me, Darion?"

"No, father! No!" Eldarion frantically shook his head. "How can I hate you when I admire you so? I spoke in anger. I didn't mean any of it."

With a regretful sigh, Aragorn brushed his son's tears away. "I shouldn't have spanked you that day. You are not a little child anymore."

"Yes, well, that would always remind me not to be such a big baby." Eldarion managed a wobbled grin. "It's about time that I grew up."

"Admitting your mistakes _is_ a sign of growing up, my son," Aragorn said. "Learn from your mistakes, and you will become a better person. I'm not saying that it is going to be easy. I was young once. I know how it is. You might repeat the same mistakes, but at least now you knew what consequences to expect."

Eldarion still looked depressed. Before coming into his father's study, he had gone to visit Legolas. The surgery to repair the elf's spleen was successful, but he was so heavily sedated he would only wake up the next morning.

"I have this huge guilt which I don't think would fade away, father," Eldarion said, "Legolas got badly injured because of me. I saw what those people did to him. He nearly died trying to protect me."

Aragorn softly chuckled at this. "What? You think you're the only one who feels this way? Legolas and Keldarion have put themselves in trouble countless of times just to save my neck. Yes, I do feel bad whenever they get hurt while protecting me, yet at the same time I feel blessed to have them as my loyal friends. In return, I would gladly die for them."

Squeezing his son's shoulder, Aragorn continued, "I understand you have been through a lot, Darion. But don't ever let that experience weakened you. You are my heir. You will replace me one day. You must stay strong, no matter what happens."

"I understand, father. But I don't think I'll be as strong as you." A lone tear rolled down Eldarion's cheek.

Seeing this, Aragorn tipped up his son's chin. "Do you love her?"

Eldarion blinked. "Who?"

"The girl. The one that you ran away with. What was her name?"

"N…Nisha. Her name was Nisha." The boy started to break down once more. "Those men killed her after they raped her. Kel and Legolas showed me her grave on our way back. There were no special markings so I planted some wildflowers on it. I'm not sure if the flowers will grow, as I'm completely hopeless at gardening. But I hope they don't die before they fully bloom, just like…like Nisha…"

Aragorn gathered his weeping son back into his arms and gently rocked, soothing him with kind words.

"I'm terribly sorry, Darion. I know you are hurting, but time will heal your pain. Look, I tell you what. How about if I send some people to her grave and build her a monument? Then everyone will know how important she had been to you. She helped change you into an adult, making you wiser beyond your years."

Eldarion gaped. "You…you are serious? You would build her a monument?"

"I'm serious." Aragorn grimly nodded. Releasing his son, he went to a side table where a small gilded chest sat on top. "Come over here. I have been waiting to talk to you about this."

Opening the chest, he took something out.

It was the long lost crown of Isildur.

Fully aware of his son's curiosity, Aragorn took his time walking to the bell chord and gave it a sharp tug. The sound of a gong was clearly heard coming from another part of the citadel. As if by magic, polite knockings came at the door not long after. A group of the citadel's noble stewards then entered and formed a semi-circle around the young prince.

Eldarion stared at them in bewilderment. "What…what's going on? Father?"

"On your knees," Aragorn told him.

Unsure of what else to do, Eldarion knelt, gazing up with anticipation.

"You found Isildur's missing crown," his father was saying, "And you brought it back to Gondor, where it belongs."

"Yes. But is it real?"

Smiling, Aragorn responded, "If it wasn't real, the stewards would not have been so crazily delighted after they finished examining it."

The king's words caused some of the men to nod in agreement.

"I will formalize this inauguration in front of the rest of Gondor's lords of office and our people in a proper ceremony tomorrow. As for now, these gentlemen will stand witness."

Aragorn held the crown above his son's head, and declared, "I, Aragorn from the House of Telcontar, with all the powers bestowed upon me as the ruler of Gondor, hereby choose the son of my blood, Prince Eldarion, as my Regent."

"Hear, hear," the stewards chorused in response.

Eldarion's jaw dropped. "Re…regent?"

Smiling, Aragorn lowered the circlet and placed it atop his son's head. "I believe this crown now belongs to you. Finder's keepers."

Eldarion was still in a daze when the king pulled him to his feet and embraced him. And then, one by one, the stewards came forward to bow at the newly appointed Prince Regent of Gondor.

"This is unreal," the prince was saying, touching the crown around his head. "This is _bloody_ unreal."

"You have to cut down that crude language when ruling this kingdom," Aragorn gently rebuked with a grin. "The people would not appreciate it if their ruler cursed like a drunkard."

"But Lord Thranduil curses all the time," the boy said, only half joking. But his smile froze when he _finally_ understood what he was in for. "You want me to do what? Rule this kingdom? But…but…how? I mean, why? You are still the king, aren't you?"

"I'm planning on taking a sabbatical. Your mother has been wishing to revisit Rivendell, to see her old home, and to see her brothers and grandfather."

"So you want me to rule in your absence."

"Of course. That's what a Regent is for."

Aragorn laughed when he saw his son turned another shade of white. "Oh, go on, now! Tell your mother and sisters. But of course your mother already knows, though I'm sure she has more to say to you."

His eyes watering once again, Eldarion grabbed his father in a quick hug.

"Thank you, father," he whispered and ran out the door in search of his mother.

"His highness will be a fine king one day, my lord," one of the stewards remarked to Aragorn before they all left.

"Indeed, he will," the current king of Gondor agreed, sheen of mist filling his eyes. "Indeed, he will."

Alone once more, he went back to his table, picked up his journal and resumed his work.

In the queen's parlor, a delighted young prince was so drunk with happiness he gave his mother a crushing embrace that lifted her off her feet. She laughed, kissed both his cheeks, and pulled him to a love seat. There, they sat holding hands. More tears of joy flowed that night as the mother talked and the son listened.

In a chamber below, a warrior prince was trading numbers, back and forth, with his wife. She kept saying that three would be enough, but he kept on bargaining and raising the number, planting kisses all over her flat belly until she dissolved into laughter and gave in. After the feat earlier in the day, her belly wouldn't stay flat for long.

In the guest nursery three doors down, a mother was singing lullabies after lullabies to put his twin sons to sleep. But the boys were so energetic they refused to lie still, and they had begun to noisily wrestle each other. The mother just smiled adoringly and continued to sing.

In the room across the hall, a father sat by a bed. It was his turn to watch over his sleeping son. The father was fast growing nostalgic by that familiar situation. Various escapades that his son had gotten into since birth—one after another—swiftly came to his mind. He recalled that one time when his son had been badly gored by a wild boar while trying to save a friend. His son was only a young boy then, but what a hero he had turned into that day…

Alas, that was another story.

**THE END**

**At last! (Slumps in her chair with a very big sigh) Thank God, I've finished it! Finally, it's over. OMG, that was the most jinxed fic I've ever written. I mean, I met a lot troubles to bring this story to end. What with my grandma's death, my demanding career, my ill health, and the list goes on. And now I'm so deliriously happy I feel like dancing a jig on the table! Yay!**

**I don't think I can manage this far without the support of you readers. Thank you _soooooooooo_ much for reading this story, and spending your precious time to review. Truly, you guys keep me going and going and going! How can I ever repay you, except for writing more and more stories after this?**

**Yes, I will keep on writing until I run out of ideas. But I'll not worry too much if that happens because you guys always offer me brilliant suggestions and plot-bunnies. Heck, some of you are even willing to lend me their muses! LOL!**

**Anyway, THANK YOU again. I know I usually list down all reviewers' name on every last chapter, but you are so many! The review section is over 40 pages long! Wow! A record!**

**To Sara my beta—You are my savior, my angel, my teacher. You make me sound as if English was indeed my first language. Thank you, dear. (Let's hope Kimi and McLaren win this year!)**

**Okay. I have a little bad news. The auditors are coming next week! So I have to postpone my next story until the middle of March. I'm thinking of putting up little Leggy fic, or the one where he got zap by the lightning. I'm still not sure which one will come up first. Just wait and see, ya? **

**By the way, feel free to drop in at the Manyan Chronicles Group. You can find the link on my bio-page. So far, the group has reached over 100 members! **

**See you all next time! Adromir is taking a short break!**

**Adromir**

**p/s : Is any of you going to Sepang for the Malaysian F1 GP this coming March 19? No? **


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